


This is the End

by amooniesong



Series: The Prophecy Unfolds [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Apologies, Arguments, Betrayal, Bittersweet Ending, Blood, Decapitation, Experimentation, Found Family, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Manhunt AU, Marriage, Mask and Goggles, Medical Experimentation, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Permanent Character Death, Pining, Political Alliances, Prophecy, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sacrifice, Sapnap gets his arm back!, Self-Sacrifice, The End, The Nether (Minecraft), Wakes & Funerals, War, id like to formally apologise to the tommy & tubbo fans that need to read 137k of fic to understand, tsunami
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:40:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 91,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25843726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amooniesong/pseuds/amooniesong
Summary: They are all alive, they are all together, but the threat looming from Technoblade and the army of the End means that their journey is not over yet. Preparing for war has taken a lot out of the group, and Dream's withdrawal has his friends on edge. George has been training with Illumina to understand his powers and learn more about his past, but there's something the God of the Overworld isn't telling him.Will they be able to overcome the obstacles ahead, stop the prophecy from fulfilling itself, and save their world? Or will fate prevail regardless of their actions?One thing is for certain, there's no going back. Whatever happens, this is the end.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Illumina & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Series: The Prophecy Unfolds [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818868
Comments: 947
Kudos: 580





	1. Distractions & Lessons

Sparks exploded, propelled forward by the force of the angle grinder weighed in Dream’s hand. Small and white hot, they caught on the air that filled the workshop and danced in the room, twinkling and reflecting in the windows, in mirrors, and in the polished metal sheets that stood upright against the wall. The occasion spark jumped backwards, catching Dream’s face and leaving him with a small burn on his cheeks. The marks were so small that they merged easily with his freckles, the scars adding to the constellations already imprinted across his skin. He didn’t react to the pain that each burn came with, unflinching as he focused entirely on his work. Already, he had been working for days on end on the casing and he still had to wire the circuits correctly, but with each passing minute his task neared completion. 

Cast to the side, forgotten and failed, lay a number of experimental circuits: thin sheets of gold laced with redstone wires; redstone sheets with thick gold wires; sheets with iron used as a conductor and fragments of emeralds and diamonds tested to see if they made any kind of difference. Nothing had worked as well as he’d wanted it to so far. That wasn’t to say his designs hadn’t worked, but they had been clunky and slow, and he wasn’t trying to make something  _ second rate _ , the arm for Sapnap had to be completely perfect. It had to work flawlessly and quickly, it needed to be strong but lightweight, flexible but rigid, and while Dream had spent years of his life playing with redstone this was a challenge in design that he hadn’t faced before.

Still, Sapnap was his friend, his  _ best  _ friend, and nothing would come in the way of him crafting something perfectly for him. He’d been getting closer and with just a few more refinements he was certain that he would have what he’d been looking for.

He felt a pain behind his eye, heating searing that he  _ knew  _ hadn’t come from the sparks, and his hand slipped just a little. Dream reacted quickly, letting go of the tool and turning it off before the blade cut through his fingers, and he stood up to pace away before his frustrations got the best of him. Silent curses remained unspoken on his lips as he blinked back his annoyance and he brought one shaky hand to his head, pressing his fingers against his temple and rubbing ever so slightly as he tried to numb himself to the sensation.

Having a God in his mind was so much more painful than he’d ever considered it to be, though he’d never particularly  _ thought  _ about the idea at length. It was an unwelcome intrusion, knowing that his every thought was being broadcasted to a deity in another realm, but one that for the most part he had come to terms with. Unless Technoblade  _ wanted  _ something from him, he was mostly left alone to go about his life. It hadn’t stopped him from slinking back into the shadows, though. Over the past few weeks he knew he had become much more reserved than he had been before, sticking to himself rather than being with his friends. His change in behaviour had been noticed, and when he  _ was  _ with them he was questioned about his solitary tendencies. Dream had explained it away with a wave of his hand, that he was just thinking about what had happened over the last few weeks and that he just needed space to process everything, and while his friends didn’t push him any further they were beginning to become suspicious. The rest of them spoke together, shared their feelings, their fears, and their thoughts on the future, but Dream continued to isolate himself. When they had tried to approach him on his own playing field - visiting him in the workshop where he spent his days - they were met with a cold shoulder. 

It hurt to ignore his friends, to know that his withdrawal was hurting them and that they were too concerned for him to voice their own frustrations with his actions, but he continued to do so. While the guilt in his chest inflated and grew, Technoblade was there to help him through it all. When he was about to snap he would feel a click in his mind and his emotions seeped effortlessly from him, and once more he was left unable to care about the relationships he was losing.

Now he stood breathing deeply, his shoulders rising and falling as his breath echoed in his ears and he focused on reducing the physical pain he felt. Technoblade’s voice didn’t follow the pain like it usually did, and after a few minutes of struggling he was left alone once more. His bottom lip was sore, his teeth having dug into it to try to help manage the discomfort in his head resulting in the skin being pulled away from the surface time and time again. Tasting blood was a usual occurrence now, and as he wandered through the workshop to find a somewhat clean rag to bring to his lip, he realised he wasn’t alone.

George’s presence was easy to feel, even if he didn’t announce himself. He knew he was there before he saw him, and that gave him a moment to brace for the guilt that would soon be swimming through his veins. He kept his head down, refusing to twist and look towards the pair of boots he could see in his peripheral. If George knew that Dream had seen him, it would be harder to ignore him.

There was silence between them as George stood in the doorway to the building, gazing at Dream’s figure with sadness written into his eyes. Dream’s frame was smaller than it used to be, but it was more than just from losing weight. He had lost his confidence, the cocky edge to everything he did, he was  _ afraid _ , and George hated how unwilling he was to discuss whatever was going on in his mind. If it had something to do with his eye, if he felt insecure about his appearance without his mask, George understood - he had changed so much himself and would be  _ more  _ than willing to listen if it would make him feel better.

But Dream kept his gaze focused away from him, his boots hitting the ground as he walked away and looked over his tools again. He didn’t particularly want to pick up from where he’d left off, his hand still shaking from before, but if he didn’t look like he was working then George would have no excuse to leave. Picking up the angle grinder once more he returned to where he’d been carving out the iron sheets, hunching over with his back turned to George. There was no chance of a conversation, no opportunity for the pair to engage, and Dream soon heard footsteps leading away from the entrance. A moment later, he heard the heavy oak fall against the frame and the door click back into place. It was closed, and he was alone again. 

As much as it hurt to feel alone, he just tightened his grip on his tools. It was  _ better  _ this way. But if he leaned in just a little closer to the hot metal - just enough to feel the sharpness of sparks hitting and burning his skin for the sake of the stinging sensation it left - then no one else needed to know that.

# # #

George marched through the village unhappily, his feet hitting the cobble path heavily as he tried to channel his anger out in a healthy way. He had to remind himself that whatever was going on, it was  _ deeper  _ than it seemed at the surface and even if he didn’t have a way of proving that to himself he had to believe it. If he didn’t, what else was there to think? That Dream hated him? No, this would pass, and things would be okay again. If he didn’t think that then he would be left to imagine that the pair would approach the end of the Universe despising each other, and that thought hurt more than he could bear. It wouldn’t come to pass that way, things  _ would  _ resolve themselves. He could feel it.

The streets of the village had always been small and winding, but they had only become more crowded over the last few weeks. Since the realisation had come to people not just here - but across the world - that the prophecy was unfolding, people had been coming to their aid. With each passing day, more people arrived: more noise filled the streets long into the night and despite the circumstances that had brought them all together, more  _ joy  _ could be heard. People laughed louder, children played together, and that spark of hope - the unifying feeling that brought every single person together - flickered into a flame. Things  _ would  _ be okay.

It helped to calm George again, and by the time he laid eyes on his friends he had mellowed out. His anger with Dream’s actions replaced with a worry that had become commonplace on his features, brows furrowed with concern and care whenever he thought of him for too long. He saw the look in Bad’s eyes as George approached them, straining a thin smile onto his face to reassure him that he was  _ alright _ . Still, it didn’t do much, and as he sat down beside Sapnap he felt the other four watching him closely.

“Still not talking?” Skeppy asked, and George’s tongue darted out from between his lips for a moment as he settled back into his seat. The pavement was filled with tables to accommodate for the increased population of the village, and despite the burden of work on their shoulders they made sure to spend their evenings together. It helped keep them sane, to keep track of themselves and what mattered to them.

“No.” George said quietly, resting his hands in front of him and letting his fingers brush over his skin. When this had all started he had changed quickly, and while his body still seemed to be changing before his very eyes, the process was much more gradual. It seemed every day something else took him a step closer to appearing like an Enderman and he wondered if he would find a way to reverse the process. Whatever his father had done to disguise him as a Human for so many years, he wanted to find a way to do it to himself. His hands now were mostly dark black, skin on his fingers almost turning to dust and specks flying away to reveal fleshy phalanges. How his friends could sit beside him like this he wondered, but he forced himself not to think about it: insecurities over his appearance were the last thing he needed right now. 

“Don’t worry, he  _ will  _ come to his senses eventually.” Bad encouraged, smiling at George from across the table. “Whatever’s going on in that head of his, he’ll realise that he’s going to be better off sharing it with us so we can help him. This won’t be permanent.”

Even as he felt Sapnap gently nudging his shoulder, his friends supporting him on all sides, it was hard not to feel disheartened by it all. He spent so much of his time training with Illumina to hone his powers that he didn’t have as much of a chance to try and crack Dream as he wanted to, and when he was with his friends he only seemed to think of the man. He knew they were hurt by his absence too, and he felt guilt surging through him.

“Maybe when he’s finished with Sap’s arm he’ll have had enough time to think about things and be ready to talk to us again.” a6d suggested, and Sapnap tried to lighten the tone too.

“If not, pretty sure a mechanical arm means I’ll definitely be strong enough to kick his ass--”

“Language!”

“Ass, really I can’t say  _ ass _ ?”

“Language!”

“Oh my God, fine.” Sapnap laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll be able to keep him in place, don’t worry. We’ll have our Dream back before we know it.”

George looked up to Sapnap and let himself smile just a little at his expression, glad to hear him so optimistic. He must have been hurting on the inside too, watching his oldest friend retreat from them all without being able to do anything to help, but George still felt something eating away at him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Skeppy nuzzling into Bad’s neck, closing his eyes and letting his hair flop over his face as he rested there, and George knew  _ why  _ he felt so responsible for all of this.

“We kissed.” He blurted out, not thinking as the words left his lips. “Before we went into the End together, we talked about how we felt for each other and we kissed and now… Now he doesn’t even talk to me.”

He couldn’t look at his friends' reactions, instead focusing his gaze on a particularly loose piece of skin on the back of his hand and pulling it away slowly. 

“This won’t be about that, George.” Sapnap said. “He’s pulled back from all of us, not just you. Don’t beat yourself up over whatever happened between the two of you. Hell, maybe you’ve got a better chance of getting through to him yourself.” His eyes flickered to look at Bad, who had been too distracted by Skeppy’s affections to chastise him for saying  _ hell _ . As George took in Sapnap’s words, he realised that he was right, but he could tell that there was an edge to his tone. It wasn’t malicious, but there was  _ hurt  _ that he wasn’t going to be the one to be there for Dream when he needed it the most.

“Whoever he talks to, it doesn’t matter. We’ll all be here for him when he’s ready.” George offered, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of his stomach twisting into knots inside him. Even if the moment they shared wasn’t the reason that Dream had stepped back, it didn’t mean that he would still necessarily feel the same way.

“Have some food.” a6d said, pushing a plate of chips towards George for him to help himself from. “You need to keep your strength up.”

“I’m not Human, I don’t have to.” George said. It was a blatant lie - he’d gotten quite good at making those as of late. Repeating to his friends and himself that he didn’t need sleep or food to the point that he too actually seemed to believe it. “I should find Illumina, he’ll be expecting me soon.”

“But, George--” Bad called, but there was no stopping the man from walking away as he got to his feet and left with his head down. He sighed once he was out of earshot, his fingers occupying themselves by playing with a toggle on Skeppy’s hoodie. “I hope he’s doing alright, the poor muffin.” He said quietly. “He’s got a lot more on his shoulders than he used to.”

“He  _ is  _ a God, Bad.” Sapnap pointed out. “He can cope with it.”

“He’s still our friend, even if he’s not Human. And he thought he was Human until a few weeks ago, he’s still been given a lot more responsibility without the time to really adjust to it. Everyone here thinks he’s going to save them.”

“Isn’t he?” Skeppy asked, shifting his head to look up at Bad. 

“Not on his own, that’s what we’re all here for. We’re all going to help make this right.”

There was a silence following Bad’s reply, unsettling as they all thought about what hadn’t been spoken. The same thought they had all had for weeks, that  _ everyone  _ seemed to have been having for weeks, and yet they kept ignoring it, kept laughing, and kept going. Despite everything they had shared, this was the one thought that remained unspoken. They were going to be fighting a war against a God, against soldiers from the End, and they wouldn’t be able to respawn. Lives would be lost and wouldn’t come back - possibly some of their own. It had driven them closer to each other as they clung to their friendships and cherished their time together, but it had taken a different toll on George. He seemed to look at everyone like their lives were his responsibility now even though they were  _ willingly  _ here to fight. They knew what they were risking, and there was a chance they  _ would  _ make it out alive, all of them together, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from cropping up in the moments of silence, when laughter and smiles wasn’t enough to carry them through.

“Cards in the bunk, what do you say?” a6d asked, breaking through the tension and offering his friends each a smile. Relieved that they now had something to occupy the void left behind they nodded in agreement, quickly finishing their meals and returning to their conversations before making their way back to the warm building that had become their home. 

Dream returned an hour after they did, and while he was still quiet he couldn’t escape from playing a few games alongside them. His competitive nature was long since gone, but he could still offer a smile when prompted or force a laugh when the moment seemed right.

George didn’t appear that night, and the five of them retired without seeing him again. It was a common occurrence now, but his absence still stung as they rolled over in their beds and settled in to sleep.

# # #

Illumina waited for George at the summit of the mountain. The walk had become familiar over recent weeks to the younger God, who had walked through the forest and watched as the leaves on the trees had been pulled down by storms, leaving them naked and bare to the world. The branches twisted towards the sky and blew in the wind, casting shadows onto the frosty ground below and continuing to live like the world  _ wasn’t  _ ending. George craved the ignorance of nature, and as he ascended the mountain for the fourth time that week he let himself  _ forget  _ about everything and just let his body work.

Climbing the rock face had gotten easier with every passing day. The first time he had climbed - only to the bealach with Sapnap and Bad - it had been difficult, it had been exhausting, and it had taken a huge amount of time. Now he scaled it like a goat, his strength improving with every passing day and his knowledge of the landscape giving him an advantage as he found new and quicker routes up.

From the summit he could see back down to the village in the distance, though clouds were rolling in on that particular night and often the view was obscured. The small light that had emanated a few weeks ago had grown now, and torches set up where people had camped on the outskirts of the village began to pollute the sky. The stars above were no longer visible during the night, even if there were no clouds to be seen, and despite knowing that people had come with good intentions the impact on the world around them left an uneasy feeling in George’s chest. He had known before, but seeing the changes playing out before his eyes left him realising just how much war was going to taint the world that he had come to call his home. 

When he approached Illumina he removed his hoodie and shirt, using the time to search his skin for any more changes. There was nothing too obvious today, although his ribs were bruised from the previous day’s training, and he offered the older man a smile.

“Do you feel what I feel?” Illumina asked, his gaze cast over the valleys beyond where he stood. “That something is coming?”

“We’re going to put our plan into action tomorrow.” George told Illumina, standing at his side and looking out with him. “We’ll speak to the Illagers first. The more notice we can give them, the better. If they  _ did  _ craft the Totem that Dream used to cheat death, then we can pay them for more and have them start working on that before formal talks to agree the terms of the alliance. Whatever is coming, we can’t go much faster now.”

Illumina felt his shoulders sink. There was only so much they’d been able to do up until this point, because they desperately needed resources they didn’t have. They were a small village, and while the world had responded well to their call to action it had taken time for people to travel to them. Now that their numbers were increasing they could begin a thorough search of the land for ores and minerals to craft the armour and weapons they would need to stand a chance against the army of the End. The mine could be seen from here, and while it was quiet now with the people working there having left to rest for the night, the impact on the environment was obvious. Mounds of stone and dirt grew in the once flat field, the world was slowly becoming more and more of a wasteland even before the battle had begun. 

“What happened in the last war?” George asked, turning his head to look at Illumina.

“It doesn’t matter.” He said. “The past is the past, obsessing over it won’t change anything. It is time to focus on the future, to focus on your training. I want you to close your eyes and reach out with your mind, listen to your breathing, to what your body tells you.”

George did as he was instructed. It was becoming natural to tune out from  _ searching  _ for things to feel and instead letting them find him. It felt  _ right _ , like he had always been meant to live like this, and as he felt the cold winter night washing over him, the air biting his nostrils slightly as he breathed in and out, he felt the world communicating with him.

He remembered the first time he had sensed it, when he had excitedly announced to Illumina that the world was speaking to him, but he had been corrected quickly.  _ Speaking  _ and  _ communicating  _ were two very different things, and Illumina wanted him to understand the difference between them. It would strengthen his understanding and broaden his capabilities much more quickly if he could understand the truth.

Communicating was something far more intimate than speaking: it required a deeper level of connection to allow a message to be conveyed without the use of speech. If George could find a way to bind himself to the Overworld so intensely, then he would have no issue with manipulating the forces around him to do as he so required. Speaking was something anyone could accomplish with ease, if Humans could speak then, to a God, speech was little more than the gurgles and coos a newborn child made.  _ Communicating  _ meant feeling the whispers of the trees, it meant the hums of the beetle’s echoing in his chest, it meant feeling the warmth of the stars shining on the back of his neck just precisely enough to tell the time of day or how far away they were, or how close to death they were. The Universe was his to control if he could learn how to  _ communicate _ .

“I have something here for you.” 

Illumina’s voice wasn’t coming from beside him anymore, rather it travelled around him and penetrated him from all angles. Everything became so much clearer when he communicated, and yet to a Human it would have felt so much more distorted.

George felt the offering given to him. Warmth, fire,  _ creation _ . 

“Reach out, fill the space before you with it.”

Without opening his eyes George was able to fill a small pit before him with lava, the gentle hissing and popping of the liquid rock filling his senses and letting him connect with the Overworld even more than he had before. So this was his lesson: controlling and manipulating the world to obey his desires. It seemed easy to perform the action, but he knew that the ease came only from Illumina’s previous lessons. The importance of knowing that  _ everything  _ was designed to create, to grow, and to prosper. The world was not meant to be filled with cruelty or pain, and even death served a purpose. Death allowed new life to be born, decay returned nutrients to the trees and the soil, and led a sustainable cycle of growth and interdependence. 

Everything worked together. Alone, separated, and disjointed, the system would collapse. 

“You’re a natural at this, George.” Illumina said, the smile in his voice evident as the younger God opened his eyes and centred himself back in his physical form, looking to his mentor with a smile. He felt sluggish, as though somewhat drained, although it felt  _ good _ . He could see the lava pool before him now, neatly filled and not covering an inch more than it had to. Snow that surrounded the area was beginning to melt and the light emitted from it highlighted the rise and fall of every little bump of the surrounding landscape. Everything he could feel with his eyes closed, he could see with the light that he’d created.

“Learned from the best.” He replied easily, feeling a shiver run down his spine as flakes of snow began to fall on them from above. George sat himself down on the ground, letting his hands sink through the cold blanket that already lay beneath him and meet the frozen rock below. Understanding the way the world worked made it all so much more beautiful, and to have been denied this pleasure for so long haunted him. Plenty of things haunted him, and he had plenty of questions that he wanted to ask, but he knew that now wasn’t the time. After the war had been won, after the world had been saved, he could grapple with the questions of who and what he was, and could unpack the memories stored away from his past that had been hidden from him, but for now he would focus on what he already knew.

He was George.

He was  _ good _ .

“You ought to do it more than once to truly understand what to do.” Illumina suggested. “You won’t always have something before you to use as a template, and you won’t always have somewhere quite so neat to put it.”

George felt a breath leave his body as he contemplated standing up once more, but instead decided to simply close his eyes and repeat the exercise from where he sat. He felt much closer to the Overworld this way, like his body was rooted in the very foundations of it, and he wondered  _ why  _ exactly. He had assumed that, if he was Technoblade’s son, his connection would have been stronger in the End, but he felt just as in control and as capable here as he had done when he had used his powers in the other realm. 

This time, George created water. Not too much, enough to lay atop the lava and hide it from the world. It began to hiss and sizzle quickly, most simply evaporating into vapours in an instant, but some reacted with the lava to form glass and rock - tiny shards of obsidian being spat out violently in all directions. He chuckled to himself as he leaned his head enough to the right to avoid one narrow chunk hitting him directly. If he’d had his eyes open and had relied on sight, he would never have seen it coming in time to move.

“You have such an interesting relationship with water, George.” Illumina said, sitting himself beside the younger and watching him closely. His eyes focused mostly on his hands, uncovered and exposed, yet plunged deep into the snow.

“It hurts.” He responded simply. “But it isn’t  _ bad _ . Water brings life to everything around it, I shouldn’t be afraid of it just because it wounds me. I want to understand it.”

“You remind me a lot of your mother.” Illumina said, his tone laced with something heavy. Regret? Sadness? George was yet to understand the history of the Gods - it was something that had been purposefully ignored when Illumina had begun to teach him how to control his powers - but it was something that he found interesting. He wasn’t his parents, and they didn’t define him, but he wanted to know more about how the relationship between the Gods had dissolved into…  _ This _ . It was obvious that Illumina had known him for some time, he knew his true name, but perhaps there had been a time when the Gods of each realm had been much closer - a time before animosity plagued their lands.

“What was she like?” George asked. He found himself opening his eyes and looking at Illumina as he spoke. “I don’t remember anything about her. Technoblade just told me that he killed her.”

“It’s a lot more complicated than that.” Illumina advised. “Your mother was never like your father, it’s why there  _ is  _ goodness inside of you. She would never have let this come to pass. But she would be proud of the person you are, standing up for what’s right even if it isn’t easy.”

“Did you know her? What she looked like, or sounded like? I know that it’s  _ Human  _ to want to know that, but Human is part of who I am. It’s everything I’ve known, everything I’ve been taught.”

“She was beautiful.” He smiled sadly as he replied. “She had a smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts, but was strong enough to move mountain ranges without a second thought.” 

More was left unsaid. George remained silent for several long moments as if waiting for the man to continue, but Illumina refused to do so. Instead, he got back to his feet and created two swords. He offered one to George, holding the other himself and flexing his fingers at the hilt.

“Let’s practice your positions again. Lunge at me.”

George knew that this was a distraction from the topic at hand, but he wouldn’t ask any further questions. Instead he took the sword, shifting his weight from foot to foot before engaging in combat and honing his skills. The more practice he had in all forms of his powers, the more prepared he would be to fight when the time eventually came. For now, he whiled the night away sparring with Illumina, practicing his dodges as he teleported and glided around the sky using his elytra. His body was exhausted when they finished for the night and he felt every pull of his aching muscles on the walk back to the village. All he wanted was to let himself sink into bed and remain there for days on end, until his body was no longer numb or bruised. But they didn’t have the luxury of time on their side, and another day without progressing their plans was another day that Technoblade would use to his advantage.

# # #

As time marched on, the days became shorter and the sun rose later and later. Today was no exception. Many people were working before the sky had even begun to brighten, and as the sun rose, rays striking the frozen world and fragmenting light in all directions, more people emerged from their tents into the bitterly cold morning. Hands were rubbed together in the hopes that friction would generate the warmth their fingers needed to stop tingling, layers piled over their bodies in an attempt to keep out the cold. Those capable of doing so headed into the mines to search for resources, and those less fit and able remained in the village to care for children, help craft weapons and armour, and cook. The influx of people left a lot of hungry mouths to be fed, and it had changed the way that the village functioned. People no longer paid for goods and services, everyone just played their part and was given whatever they needed to survive in return. 

George had returned to the bunk late at night and had fallen asleep face first on top of his sheets, muddy footprints having trailed in from outside (and the boots in question remaining on his feet). Dream, unsurprisingly, had vanished before his friends had a chance to wake up, and the remaining four set about preparing for the day. They had an awful lot they needed to accomplish and wasted no time in dressing, breakfasting, and walking to the church. Except, in an unseen turn of events, they were stopped by a familiar face.

“Dream?”

While his presence was a surprise, it was a pleasant one. He had a smile on his face and Sapnap’s exclamation couldn’t have been happier. The smile seemed  _ genuine _ , and it was the first time in two weeks he’d willingly sought them out in the morning.

“Come with me.” Dream said, excitement in his voice as he reached out and grabbed Sapnap’s hand. “I have something for you.”

“Wait but we’ve--” Sapnap started, a6d placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him, before shaking his head.

“We’ve got this, join us when you can alright?” He said. Sapnap looked to Bad and Skeppy, who were both nodding and smiling at him. The three were just as glad to see a trace of the old Dream poking through, they could handle their duties until Sapnap had a chance to return. So, with a grin on his own face, Sapnap shrugged his arm around Dream’s shoulder and squeezed tightly - he wanted to make his presence known as much as possible, to bring Dream back to them for more than just the morning.

“Is it what I think it is?” He asked, Dream leading Sapnap towards the workshop he’d hidden himself away in for the last few weeks.

“I finished it this morning, it should be perfect, we can attach it right away and you can start learning to use it. It should be fairly intuitive, I’ve made the wiring as simple as possible. I’ll give you an anaesthetic and get everything hooked up quickly.”

“Since when are you a surgeon?” Sapnap asked jokingly, a laugh leaving his lips. He saw Dream’s smile curve upwards just a little more at his response and felt warmth grow in his heart. Was he finally coming back to them? He wanted nothing more than to have Dream back at his side, wheezing and grinning through whatever stupid story he was retelling for the umpteenth time. 

“You’d rather do it yourself? Be grateful you’re getting an anaesthetic.” Came his response, his arm bumping against Sapnap’s side and jostling the younger of the two ever so slightly. It was enough to bring another hearty laugh from Sapnap and he just squeezed his friend closer in response. The second his arm was working he would wrap Dream into the longest hug the other would let him give, and would cherish every second that it lasted. 

As much as he’d joked about not trusting Dream, there wasn’t really anyone else that Sapnap would have let do this to him. The arm itself was beautiful, crafted with such care, the circuitry seen through small slits in the casing and tiny crystals running along the inside of his arm. It was polished brighter than anything he’d seen, glinting in the light and reflecting their faces almost perfectly as they peered at the details together. Sapnap wouldn’t let Dream repeat it to anyone, but just seeing the arm had been enough for him to choke on his words, and as he sat beside the table it rested on with a gel being rubbed over his stump shoulder he might have let a few tears fall.

Dream, his brother, his friend, and his confidant - the man he’d  _ lost  _ his arm for - had given him back so much more than just an arm. He’d removed every insecurity he’d felt, everything that made him think he wasn’t as good as the rest of his friends seemed to vanish in an instant as he watched Dream work. It was slow and steady, but with the gel numbing his shoulder he didn’t feel an ounce of discomfort as the limb was attached and a short while after the procedure was complete he was sat beginning to learn how to use the arm. Dream explained in detail how each of the circuits worked, what had to be done to replace them if something stopped working, and how to clean it to make sure it was kept in the best condition possible. He gave Sapnap some time to play around with the appendage, before instructing how he would need to use the arm to move specific fingers and make certain motions.

The pair spent the morning together, laughing as if the world wasn’t ending and as if the last two weeks simply hadn’t existed. Every problem and miscommunication was forgotten, and the workshop was filled with cheers as Sapnap managed to pick up one of the tools and slowly move it back and forth in front of him. Sure, he couldn’t quite grab Dream with his flesh arm and use the redstone prosthetic to rub his hair in a fond noogie, but he had made quick progress and he felt whole again. 

As the sun peaked in the sky the two left the workshop to find George. They still had a job to do, and Sapnap could spend the coming days and weeks learning how to block with a shield, swing with a sword, and shoot with a bow again. There was a long road of rehabilitation and learning ahead of him, but Sapnap was confident that with the help of his friends he would soon be back to his former self. Underneath the weak beams of the winter sun, Sapnap closed his fingers on his new arm to form a fist and lightly punch Dream in the shoulder.

“What’s that for?” Dream asked, raising an eyebrow as he stopped in his tracks.

“I missed you, man.” Sapnap told him. “I really thought we’d lost you.”

Tendrils of guilt surged upwards from Dream’s stomach and he struggled to keep his feelings hidden. He hadn’t seen happiness like this on Sapnap’s face since before everything had gone wrong that fateful morning when they’d begun their game. Instead of keeping his face on show and risking the truth seeping out, Dream made the quick decision to wrap his arms around Sapnap’s shoulders and pull him in for a hug. As he stared forwards at the world and thought of nothing but the pain he knew he would soon cause, he felt Sapnap settle comfortably on his shoulder, his nose pressed firmly against him and his hands moved to squeeze Dream close. The luxury of holding him in both of his arms, knowing that he was safe after everything he’d been through, it was a sensation that brought Sapnap pure, unadulterated joy.

He wasn’t going to let this memory go anytime soon. 


	2. An Alliance & An Apology

Metal swords clashed together, filling the small corner of the village with the sounds of weapons clanging and grunts as the two men dodged lunges and parried their blades back and forth. 

“C’mon Skeppy, you’re supposed to be showing them what to do if  _ I _ have the advantage.”

“I’m not gonna let you win that easy, Bad.” Skeppy smirked, a glint in his eyes reflecting off the iron of his sword as he gripped the hilt a little tighter and pushed a little harder. The two of them were painfully close, and any distance that  _ was  _ between them might as well have been an extension of themselves. They’d been demonstrating different fighting styles to the villagers for most of the morning, both taking this moment of locked swords to catch their breath from the intensity with which they’d fought.

Sure, they were  _ teaching _ , but that wasn’t going to make it easy for either of them to  _ lose _ . 

As a bead of sweat rolled down Bad’s face, Skeppy’s eyes flicked down to his lips in a way that he just  _ knew  _ would throw his opponent for a loop. There was a crowd watching them, this wasn’t the time to be engaging in such dirty tactics, but it didn’t stop him. 

“Skeppy, not  _ now _ !” Bad squeaked, his voice as quiet as possible so Skeppy was the only one that would be able to hear him. It just gave the younger another advantage as he leaned his face in a little closer and - pride be damned - Bad let himself stumble backwards to the ground. 

He heard a laugh come from the crowd to his right and felt his cheeks heating up a little, though Skeppy offered him a hand to help him to his feet once more as a6d tsked and left them to it as he addressed the crowd.

“We’ve got wooden swords for you to start with, you can hurt each other with them but it’s a lot harder.” He said, taking the attention away from Bad and Skeppy as he began to lead the group away from the area they’d been practicing in.

“You’re such a cheater, Skeppy.” Bad said, sheathing his sword at his side and brushing himself down from his fall. “I would have absolutely  _ toasted  _ your muffin if you hadn’t done…  _ That _ .”

“Done what?” Skeppy asked with a smile, watching Bad closely. He folded his arms across his chest to try and look like he was keeping his composure, but he was just as flustered as Bad even  _ if  _ he could hide it better.

“You--  _ Are you going to make me say it?!” _

“Maybe I’d like to hear it.”

“You are  _ so  _ lucky I love you, Skeppy.” Bad said, his cheeks holding the same pink colour as he continued to speak. “You looked like you were going to kiss me, it  _ distracted  _ me! You were going to kiss me in front of all those people and I didn’t know how to react.”

“Wait, so you don’t want to kiss me in front of people?” Skeppy asked, taking mock offense just to see Bad’s reaction. Even as the older gasped and scrambled for words, he found himself laughing.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it Skeppy, they just wanted to learn how to fight with swords, not to see us kissing.”

“That’s what you think.” Skeppy said, moving from where he stood to be closer to Bad. Standing too far from his side for too long  _ hurt _ , and he was glad to be able to reach out and feel him again. “Well, now it’s just the two of us,  _ can  _ I kiss you?”

“I suppose one  _ little  _ kiss wouldn’t hurt.” 

Bad smiled down at Skeppy, watching him run his fingers through his hair before he moved his hands to the back of Bad’s head and pulled him in for just a  _ little  _ more than a  _ little _ kiss.

Quick, passionate, and intense, Bad barely had time to even begin to kiss back before Skeppy pulled away from him with a smile on his face and a laugh leaving his chest - a laugh that only got louder when he saw just how red Bad had turned.

“I can’t believe you, Skeppy.” Bad said, chastising him lightly, but he had a smile on his face. 

“You love me.” Skeppy said with a shrug, reaching out with one hand and tightening his fingers a few times to ask for Bad to hold his. 

“I  _ do _ , I love you.” 

As Bad took his hand and laced their fingers together, Skeppy’s smile widened and he leaned his head against his shoulder. With everything approaching on the horizon he was glad to have Bad by his side, glad to know his true feelings and glad to have his love and support to fight back the terror he felt inside.

“I love you too.”

“C’mon you muffin, let’s go help a6d. He’s not going to be able to stop everyone from getting splinters without us.”

# # #

The morning passed by without a hitch, the three men walking between crowds of people who had paired up and found spaces in the streets to practice the different techniques they’d been shown. There were, naturally, a few incidents of people  _ actually  _ being hurt, but they were few and far between and they weren’t particularly serious. Most of the time was spent correcting people’s posture, showing them how better to move their shoulders with their swing and where was a better area to aim for when fighting. 

The sessions were informal and while people were dedicated to helping the cause, they began to thin out shortly after midday. They’d all worked incredibly hard and there were plenty of other things that needed doing to help prepare for the battle they would face - they couldn’t  _ just  _ practice fighting all day, and so as the last few stragglers found themselves going to find food or going to mine for more resources, the trio found themselves wandering back up to the church.

It was strange to think of the church becoming such a centre of planning and activity for a war, but given the significance of it (and Illumina and George’s leadership) it had naturally become the place that they all focused on. When the three entered they caught sight of their friends already sitting behind the altar, going over books, papers, and plans. The creaking sound of the old building and their echoing footsteps was enough to catch the attention of George, Sapnap, and Dream, who looked up and offered them a smile and a wave.

Well, two of them did.

“Is that what your surprise was?” Bad asked with a gasp, trying to ignore the mountain tension between the group and instead focusing on Sapnap’s new arm. “It looks amazing, how does it work?”

“It’s brilliant.” Sapnap said, light returning to his eyes as he shifted his stance enough to show off how it worked to the three approaching men, flexing his fingers and twisting his wrist. “Means I can do this.”

As Sapnap carefully pulled his thumb and three of his fingers to his palm, he managed to flip Bad off, and the look on his face brought laughter to Sapnap, Skeppy and a6d.

“You can’t do that in here! And it’s rude  _ anyway _ , language!”

“I didn’t say anything.” Sapnap giggled, flexing his fingers once again and putting his hand on Bad’s shoulder. “Dream must’ve programmed it wrong, you know that  _ I  _ would never do anything like that.” He joked, a quiet huff coming from Dream behind him. His tone had changed a lot since the morning and while Sapnap had done his best to ignore it, George flinched at the noise. He was on edge and it was clear that Dream’s behaviour was the cause of it all. 

“What have we got planned, then?” a6d asked, trying to take the focus away from Dream and back onto the task at hand. They had a lot to do, and just because one of them was making things difficult it didn’t mean the rest of them couldn’t work.

“I’m just putting the finishing touches on the letter.” George said from where he sat, his head down as he scribbled away furiously, trying to find the right words to communicate their message. It was far more difficult than he’d expected it to be, and Dream’s attitude had been nothing more than a distraction. A muted tension had filled the hall as he’d retreated more and more within himself during their work, and now he was reduced to making the occasional grunt or dry comment and George was about to snap.

“Okay, we’ll go over the plan.” Skeppy said, turning to Sapnap. “Who’s going?”

“The five of us.” He replied, and he jumped as a fist collided with the table behind him.  _ There was the snap. _ He grimaced a little, closing his eyes as he tried to block out what he already knew was coming.

“You’re not coming, Dream?” George asked, his tone harsh and laced with venom. When he didn’t answer, George felt something inside of him twang and he didn’t hold back: the culmination of his response to days of excuse; the hurt from being ignored. George turned to him with a pointed finger and gritted teeth and unleashed his anger.

“What is going  _ on  _ with you Dream? We’ve all been giving you space, letting you think, letting you have whatever it is you need, and now that you’re sitting here with us again you’re not even going to  _ help?! _ You do  _ know  _ what’s going on right, what’s at stake here? Do you even care about us, about  _ me? _ Or are we just… Do we mean  _ so little  _ to you that you’re not even going to help us fight a  _ war? _ “

“George…” Bad’s voice came from behind gently. He understood that George needed to get his emotions out, keeping them all bottled up wasn’t healthy, but he was going to say something he regretted if he didn’t stop. He placed a hand on his shoulder, but it was aggressively shoved away and he returned his focus entirely to Dream.

“You don’t get to sit here and be silent, you  _ say something _ . Anything. Tell me what I’m saying is right and I’ll give up on you here and now. I won’t waste any more of my time caring about you.”

George made this personal to sting him, knowing damn well that it was the only way he was going to get a reaction out of Dream, but his face just seemed to remain…  _ Blank _ . An empty stare, straight ahead, unaffected by George’s outburst. And that was it, the nail in the coffin, the final straw, and he realised that his plan had backfired terribly.

He’d said those things to upset Dream, but his own heart was shattering in his chest. With his back to his friends he blinked away painful tears, taking in a shaky breath as Dream silently stood up and pushed past him - pushed past all of them - and left. 

After the door slammed shut behind him, the church was left eerily empty and the atmosphere had shifted drastically. 

“Are you alright, George?” Bad’s voice cut through, the four men with their eyes on him and him alone.

“I’m fine.” He said. “I’m just going to finish the letter…” 

With that he snatched the quill and paper and retreated further into the church, hiding himself in one of the side rooms to work alone. The four were left wondering silently if they should go after either of the men, but no one said anything. The tension between George and Dream had become a deadweight holding them all down and as much as it pained them all to admit, the fact that they had  _ gone  _ meant they could get some work done without worrying about stepping on a verbal landmine. 

Sapnap discussed the importance of the alliance with them, something at this point they all knew well but covering it one last time would do no harm. As he talked through the different intricacies of the behaviour they needed to show to tell the Illagers they were coming to speak, rather than acting as a threat, George emerged once more. He was visibly annoyed that Dream had not returned, but sat sheepishly at the table with his friends and listened silently to the plan. It was the  _ least  _ he could do.

He became gradually more reanimated and involved in the discussion as time went on, finding comfort in being with his friends and knowing that, even if he’d lost Dream, he still had them. Things would still be alright. He could mourn the heartbreak of Dream’s rejection when the war was won. For now he needed to focus.

# # #

As the sun began to set, the five men packed up the things they needed to take with them: emeralds, an invitation to negotiate peace and an alliance, and a working knowledge of what gestures they needed to show to greet the Illagers with respect. They knew that the mansion that housed the creatures was in the dark forest, and that with night coming in quick they would have a difficult journey there and an even more treacherous walk back. Armed with swords and shields, the men set off with a wish of good luck from Illumina. The man noticed Dream’s absence from the group, but made no comment. He had been concerned with the young Human’s behaviour for several weeks now, this wasn’t unexpected.

The sun had well and truly sunk below the horizon by the time the men were deep into the forest, and they walked together so as to cover all angles. They didn’t speak, just focusing on keeping themselves safe as George led the way confidently. Without too much of a fight from surrounding mobs, the men arrived unscathed at the mansion.

Broken glass lay shattered in the tall blades of grass and as they searched for the entrance to the building, until the familiar glow of torches lighting a tall archway caught their attention and they approached slowly and carefully. This was where the real task started, the men having to hope that the literature they’d read and the actions they’d taken were a sure-fire way of entering into talks with the Illagers. If it wasn’t, then they would be in trouble, but at least they’d have each other to watch their backs. 

George still led the group as they approached the entrance to the mansion, and while it was open to all who dared to enter he knocked against the logs that had been used to build the wall and called out. 

Sapnap, Skeppy, a6d and Bad stood a few paces behind him, watching his actions closely. Whatever he shouted to them, it wasn’t a language they understood - perhaps being a God allowed him the ability to communicate using other languages? George hadn’t gone into the specifics of his abilities with them, but they trusted him. He had done nothing but make himself useful over the past few weeks, they had no reason to doubt him now that he was able to control himself once more.

His shout had clearly attracted attention from the residents of the mansion, because their small view into the building was soon filled with a number of creatures. Two Pillagers stood with crossbows aimed at him, two Vindicators had their axes raised, and an Evoker eyed him warily. Continuing in the tongue from before, he spoke to Evoker and after a discussion, George turned back to face his friends and explain what was happening to them.

“We can go in.” He said. “We’ll be escorted, as long as we don’t try anything we’ll remain unharmed.”

Despite George’s reassuring smile, it was difficult to believe that could be the case when the crossbows remained loaded and the axes remained elevated, but there was nothing they could do but put their trust in them.

Stepping over the threshold and into the mansion they each bowed slowly and carefully, trying to execute the small detail flawlessly and show that they had done at least a little to understand their culture and their symbols of respect. It seemed to lessen the tension between the group and the crossbows were lowered just a little. Still loaded, but now aimed at the floor as they were led through winding corridors and eyed by all those inside.

The patrols of Illagers in the mansion were all undertaken in large groups, and knowing that Dream had been here and had stolen from them previously they assumed it had something to do with him. They’d never know what he got up to for certain, but it had clearly left a sour taste in the mouth of the Illagers. They were taken into what appeared to be a conference room - five Vindicators and an Evoker sitting at the seats around the table - and the five lay their weapons and shields at the entrance as a symbol of their peace before sitting down to join them and begin to speak. 

It was impossible to tell what was being discussed, but the four men sitting either side of George did their best to read the tone of the room. There was tension at first, a back and forth that felt like it could go one of two ways. The twitch of a crossbow from behind was almost enough to set something in motion that couldn’t be stopped, but then George raised a hand and gave a small show of power, forcing the weapon (and the hand that held it) back down. When it became obvious just how capable he was, the Illagers seemed to take his words more seriously and the conversation moved towards something more constructive. The atmosphere shifted, and the four watched as a deal was made. What that deal was, they simply didn’t know, but George seemed pleased enough with it by the way that he smiled and leaned back, feeling accomplished. He turned to Skeppy for the first time since he’d arrived and spoke to him quietly.

“The emeralds.” He said, and Skeppy pulled out the bags of jewels. The village had pulled together everything they had for this, and they hoped it would be enough to get what they wanted. As he let the Illagers examine the contents of the bag he went on to detail the opportunity for another talk in a few days time, taking the letter he had in his pocket and sliding it across the table. The Evoker opened it, clearly impressed that it had been written in their own language, rather than needing them to slowly translate it. After a few minutes were spent reading, the Evoker looked to George with a smile on its face. It was an awful lot less intimidating than when he had been trying to kill them.

Reaching his arm out across the table George smiled, and the Evoker met him half way and shook. Clearly, the discussion had gone well and the beginnings of an alliance were forming. It gave the men watching hope that had been much needed - maybe they  _ did  _ have a chance of winning this thing after all.

The conversation became much more informal after that, before the Illagers and George stood up, and he gestured for his friends to do the same.

“They’ve agreed to make the Totems as requested, they’ll make as many as they can and they’ll do it as quickly as they can, and they’ll send a peaceful party to discuss the details of the treaty to the village in a few days. We’ll have time to prepare the contracts before then, Illumina and I will handle it.” He told his friends, giving them a smile. “We’ve got this, everything’s going to be fine. Grab your things, we’ll be taken out and we can head home.”

With their shields in their hands and their swords sheathed by their sides, the five men were taken back through the mansion. It was still dark when they exited and the next few hours would be dangerous as they walked through the woods, but they took their time and kept a close watch on their surroundings to avoid walking head first into any danger.

“Hey, Sapnap?”

George’s voice cut through the quiet. The two men were walking at the back of the group, Skeppy, Bad, and a6d a few paces ahead and talking amongst themselves softly. 

“Did you see something?” He asked, and George felt himself swallow back his hurt at that. But this was long overdue, and maybe it would help move things along between them.

“I don’t think I ever really said  _ sorry  _ for everything I did.”

“That wasn’t you.” Sapnap said, his shoulders falling. “We know your head was being messed with, it’s not your fault.”

“But, it was still  _ me _ .” He said. “Still my voice saying you deserved to die, still my body running at you with a sword. We’ve been friends for so long, I can’t imagine how much it must’ve hurt to see that, or how scary it could’ve been, I don’t remember it as well as I’d like. But you’re my friend, Sapnap, one of my best friends. Even  _ if  _ we fight, I would never want to kill you. I know things probably won’t go back to the way they used to be, but I do love you.”

They walked in silence for several minutes after that, and George’s heart grew heavier with each passing moment. He’d done what he could, though. And even if Sapnap didn’t want to accept the apology, he’d understand. 

“I really… It  _ hurt  _ when you said you should’ve killed me when I was sleeping, to know that you’d been thinking about it for a while… That all that time we’d been working together you wanted me dead. It terrified me, I’d already lost my arm and I felt useless and to hear that you thought I was just as useless as I did hurt. I really thought I meant nothing to you.”

“I’m sorry.” George said. “I know that can’t even begin to make things right, but everything I said was wrong. You’ve  _ never  _ been nothing, without you I don’t know what I’d have done. You’re a good person, you’re kind, you do what’s right no matter what. You’re one of the bravest people I know to go through everything you’ve been through and just…  _ Keep going _ . I wish I was half the man you were, Sapnap.”

Sapnap was glad for the cover of night that meant he couldn’t be seen, one hand raising up to wipe away at a few tears that had fallen. He bit down on his bottom lip to focus himself on his surroundings again as they kept walking.

“Thank you.” He said quietly. “I do… I mean, I forgive you. You’ve saved my life since then, I know that whatever was going on has settled and you’re back to normal. Well, back to  _ George _ . You’re my friend, you always have been and you always will be. Besides, we need to have each other’s backs right about now.”

With that off their chests, finally discussed rather than the subject being avoided, they walked much more comfortably side by side. 

It wasn’t long before they saw the three men ahead of them come to a stop, a6d turned around to hold a hand out towards Sapnap and George while Bad and Skeppy grabbed their shields and swords, starting to take slow, careful steps forward. They were quiet, listening, and could hear the sounds of Skeletons getting into a fight somewhere in the trees. Trying not to attract attention to themselves the group all began to advance together and as they caught sight of the battle, they realised they weren’t alone in this forest.

With the Skeletons distracted they managed to sneak up behind them and two quick, coordinated strikes from both Bad and Skeppy had the two monsters crumbling to the ground, nothing more than a pile of bones and the horizon safe once more. 

“What did they see?” Sapnap asked, and Skeppy gave a shrug.

“No idea, I can’t see anything else.” He replied.

“Maybe Dream came out here?” Bad suggested, and George flinched at the mention of his name. “Maybe he decided he wanted to help after all.”

Their questions were answered then, when a bark tore their attention away from each other and to a dog that stood proudly a few paces away. Even from this distance and in the dark, George felt a smile force its way onto his face as a laugh passed his lips, and he dropped his shield and sword to the ground before running towards the animal.

“Hello!” He exclaimed happily, kneeling down and opening his arms wide. The dog recognised him from before, standing on his hind legs and placing his paws excitedly on George’s shoulders. If this had been where Dream had first stumbled into the dog, then there was no wonder he had come back when they’d let him go back out into the Overworld alone.

“You know him?” Sapnap asked, and George pet the dog behind the ears lovingly. 

“He was following Dream when I found him.” George said, the dog barking again as if he recognised Dream’s name. “I suppose he’ll follow us home. Good to have an extra pair of eyes.” 

  
The excuse was flimsy at best, but none of them were going to turn and tell the dog to leave. As they continued their walk back to the village, now throwing sticks for the dog to run back and forth with, there was a little more laughter and happiness between them all. Worries of what tomorrow would bring had melted away and for now, they dared to just be  _ happy _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god my brain REALLY went out the window with this chapter, i've never struggled more to write in my life, i think this is my body telling me i need to have a normal sleep schedule again... but we've got an old friend returning, & while things have gone mostly okay this chapter i'm afraid to say that won't be the case for much longer


	3. Secrets & A Letter

It was to some disappointment that, when the group returned to the village, they found Dream asleep in his bed. 

George left the bunkhouse. The others slunk into their own beds and turned the lights out. Even in the darkness, with sleep creeping upon them quickly, there was a tension in the air. George and Dream had already fought, but there was still something  _ more  _ to give. What there could possibly be, none of them knew, but it hung over them and taunted them as they gave in to unconsciousness and began to rest for the night.

Instead of sleeping, George took a sword and climbed to the very peak of the mountain once more. Illumina hadn’t asked him to train that night, wanting to give him a chance to rest, but George had no intentions of doing so. He was upset, he needed to get his emotions out instead of being forced to spend a night in a room with  _ him _ , and so with each swing of his sword into thin air - each wave of his hand summoning water and lava - he became progressively more expressive. His subtle grunts became full-on screams as he lashed out at nothingness, yelling until his throat was raw and his body was exhausted from the movement. He was over exerting himself, but for one night he didn’t care about anything other than his own state of mind. 

Dream didn’t give a damn about him, why should he give a damn about himself?

When he eventually took a moment to stop he was deliberate as he sank his hands down into snow and let the meltwater sting his fingers. It hurt, but the physical hurt was so much  _ easier  _ to endure than the mental. 

“Is this what you think will help?”

Illumina’s voice came from behind him, and George felt his shoulders sag.

“It will help  _ me _ .”

“Your mother wouldn’t want to see-”

“My mother is  _ dead _ .” He snapped, getting to his feet and raising his sword out towards Illumina, the blade pressing gently against his throat. “She died a very,  _ very  _ long time ago and I know nothing about her. What she would have wanted for me makes no impact on my life, and if I want to spend an evening letting out my frustrations and my hurt  _ now  _ so I don’t snap during a war that has the weight of the realm on my shoulders, I think I should be  _ entitled  _ to this.”

Illumina watched George, not flinching at his tone or his gestures. “You are right in what you say. You are entitled to expressing yourself, but even if you don’t remember your mother you shouldn’t speak so ill of her. She tried her best to do what was right.” 

“By dying? Letting my father torture me, experiment on me? She thought that was  _ right?!” _

There was a pregnant pause between the two men, the wind picking up and blowing their hair as the world seemed to respond to the intense emotions they were both feeling. With a hand, Illumina moved George’s sword away from his throat and took a step towards him slowly. 

“Son-”

“I’m not your son.”

“ _ Herobrine _ , listen to me. You are upset, you aren’t thinking logically and you don’t  _ know  _ everything that happened-”

“Then tell me.” George said. His voice was flat and passive. “It can’t be worse than anything else I’ve learned, it can’t hurt  _ more  _ than what I already am. I can take it.”

There was something about George’s state of mind that told Illumina he  _ couldn’t  _ take it, but the boy was only going to grow more impatient, more restless, and angrier if he didn’t know. Giving him the answers to this would satisfy some of his curiosity and put his mind at ease and would make his behaviour less inflammatory. He just hoped that by telling him the truth, he was making the right decision.

It didn’t mean he had to tell the  _ whole  _ truth, however.

“Take a seat, Herobrine.” Illumina said, sitting on the edge of the mountain and letting his legs dangle down towards the ground far beneath them. There was a sharp cliff edge that dropped down for thousands of feet before becoming a steep, gravelly slope. He heard George sit beside him and watched his legs drop over the cliff as he placed his sword to the ground with a clang.

Where was he supposed to begin? How much could or  _ should  _ he reveal? He knew in his mind exactly what was off limits, but there was a grey area that surrounded a number of things that George would eventually come to learn. Was now the time to inform him?

“Who was my mother?” He asked when Illumina remained silent, and he let out a heavy breath. There was no going back from here.

“She was my daughter.”

Silence fell again, the world around them almost stilling as George took in the information he’d been given. It was so much and yet  _ nothing  _ all at once, and he forced himself to swallow and nod. He hadn’t expected that answer, and he wasn’t sure exactly how he was supposed to process it.

“This prophecy… It is part of a cycle, Herobrine. The war between the realms begins time and time again. I have fought in more than I can remember, I have seen this world decimated and watched those I loved die for millions of years. Nothing I have tried has stopped it from coming to pass. But I cannot give up, the moment I do it will be a victory for Technoblade and for the End.”

“If he killed the God of the Nether…”

“It’s why the alliance will be so important, it’s why we  _ have  _ to secure it. If the two realms can work together as one we have a chance of destroying Technoblade and his army.”

“Why couldn’t you just kill Technoblade and stop him from attacking in the first place?” George asked, and Illumina laughed.

“The family you come from is more complicated than you’d first think, there are people waiting in the shadows to seize an opportunity to take the reins and lead. A war will bring them out into the open, make them easier to destroy, and this is our best chance at succeeding. With you by my side, I’m sure we can take down whoever we have to.”

George nodded, looking out at the horizon and trying to piece together what he was hearing. He could tell from the way that Illumina spoke that information was being withheld, but he would discover it eventually.

“Do you know how my mother died?”

“Painfully.” Illumina forced a strained laugh from his lungs, shaking his head and bringing a hand to wipe tears from his cheeks. The laugh had been a thin disguise to hide the truth, but he’d been mourning for hundreds of thousands of years and the feeling wasn’t going away any time soon. “I felt it in my chest, the day her light faded, I carry that emptiness with me wherever I go. But you… I always knew you were alive, that part of her lived on in you. Your heritage doesn’t define your future, it just gives you the choice of the side you wish to align with.”

“I’m staying here, nothing my father can say to me will change my mind. He murdered my mother in cold blood, my choice has been made.”

“Then that is all you need to remember. Whatever else you think or feel, whoever you meet and whatever you learn, remember the choice you’ve made. Stay true to yourself, to this world.”

“Can you tell me anything else?”

“No.” Illumina said, resting a hand on his shoulder and letting his thumb brush against his shirt. “You will learn, I cannot keep that from happening, but you know what you need to know now. You know your heritage, your powers, it will be enough.”

At least now he wasn’t  _ lying  _ about the fact that there was still more to tell, but George didn’t appreciate Illumina telling him he knew  _ enough _ . He wanted to know everything, not just what seemed  _ important  _ or  _ useful  _ for him to know. But this little bit of information gave him…  _ Something _ . It gave him the beginnings of an understanding of himself. 

He wasn’t  _ just _ Technoblade’s son, he was a child of the End and of the Overworld. 

“I’m sorry he killed your daughter.”

“She died trying to do the right thing.” Illumina replied quietly. “She would be proud of the choices you’re making, though she wouldn’t appreciate the strain you’re putting yourself through. Please, consider resting Herobrine.”

And then he disappeared, as quickly and as seamlessly as he’d arrived, and George was left alone to think. His right hand moved and rested against the hilt of his sword in the snow and he swallowed, letting his shoulders fall before he grabbed the weapon and got back to his feet. Illumina was right, he needed to rest, and with the few answers he’d been given about his past he was more able to process the pain of losing Dream. 

He teleported back to the village, hanging his sword up in the armoury and silently joining his friends in the bunkhouse. They had an important day ahead of them, and as he felt his body sinking into the soft mattress beneath him he fell quickly asleep.

# # #

Bad was the first to awake in the morning, struggling to slip out of Skeppy’s hold without waking him up. He thought he’d succeeded until he felt a hand grab hold of his when he twisted his body to sit up and the hand tried to tug him back.

“Don’t leave me.” Came a whisper, the man half asleep and his eyes still closed.

“I won’t leave you, Skeppy.” Bad said affectionately. “I’m fetching us all breakfast. Stay warm, I’ll be back soon.”

Before letting go of Skeppy’s hand he placed a kiss to the back of his knuckles and watched the younger man’s lips curve into a content smile. As he drifted back to sleep Bad clambered out of bed, pulling his boots and hoodie on before he stepped outside and was ambushed by the cold winter air. Everything seemed so much colder today despite the thick blanket of clouds above, and he shivered as he closed the door behind him. 

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets to try and keep the bite away from his fingertips and started to walk, crunching through a fresh layer of snow as he made his way through the crowded streets. The village was filled with faces he no longer recognised as more people arrived, but there was one face he could see that he’d become very accustomed to.

“Dream?”

The younger man looked up to Bad as he spoke, hearing his name called from a distance. Dream looked crestfallen, he looked as if he’d barely slept even though Bad was certain that he’d been asleep when they’d all arrived back the night before. Despite the animosity that seemed to exist whenever the group was together, Bad was nothing if not a kind friend who would listen to whatever people wanted to say. Maybe, just the two of them, he could help.

“Do you want to get breakfast together?” Bad asked, a smile on his face as he approached. 

“I want to come with you today.” He replied, no smile on his face. “To the Nether, I want to help.”

“Good! The more the merrier, and you’re  _ always  _ a good help, you muffin. Now help me pick out what we should be having today, I promised Skeppy something nice.”

Bad could tell by Dream’s tone that he wasn’t going to figure out what was going on with him today, or it would be difficult to do so, but he wouldn’t push him. If all he needed right now was to feel welcome and included then he could do that. Still, there was a worry in Dream’s eyes that Bad wasn’t going to be able to shake, and it needed to be addressed before long. Worrying during war would do him no good, it would never end well.

They wandered through the streets together, Bad reaching out with a hand and placing it on Dream’s shoulder to see if that would help ground him just a little. 

“Whatever’s going on right now Dream, you can talk to us about it. We’re your friends, we’re here to listen to you and help you.”

“Do you think George knows how much I love him?”

Bad blinked. He wasn’t surprised by Dream’s confession of love, he’d heard from George that they’d kissed and he’d seen first hand himself how enamoured with each other the two were, but he didn’t believe this all stemmed from  _ George _ . There was something else going on.

“I think that’s a conversation you need to have with George yourself.” Bad replied. “I think, whatever’s been happening lately, the two of you would know how you felt a lot better if you just  _ talked  _ to each other. He’s not going to leave you if that’s what you’re afraid of, whatever’s happened he’ll be there to help.”

“I don’t think I can say it all out loud.” Dream admitted, looking down at the snowy path before them. 

“So write it down, write a letter for him. Then you can think about what you need to say, you’ll know you’ve said everything, and he can read it when he’s ready. A letter will work, I promise.”

Dream didn’t reply and Bad took that to mean that the conversation had come to an end, and avoided asking any further questions. If that had been enough to help Dream figure out how to approach his problems then he was happy. It didn’t seem to leave him any less on edge, though, and worry still ate at the back of Bad’s mind.

They took enough breakfast food for the six men and returned to their bunkhouse, the clouds above now brighter as the sun rose higher into the sky. By the time they returned their friends were all awake, talking and getting dressed as they prepared for the day. The food was appreciated by all and pastries were consumed silently, crunching and chewing now the only sounds to be heard. When they’d finished they started preparing for their journey, no one commenting on the fact that Dream was getting ready with them. He always seemed to be one sarcastic comment away from storming off, and so as they collected the armour they needed and swords and shields, the six ran over their plan again.

The key to an alliance with the Nether lay with the Pigmen. Unlike most other creatures in the Nether, they were neutral in relation to them and without a God of their own to lead them in the war against the End they would be lost. Theoretically, an alliance should be  _ easy  _ to form. But they were taking no chances.

To make things easier on themselves, lava had been brought to the surface as the mine had expanded and a portal had been constructed just outside the village itself. Without giving themselves time to back out, the portal was ignited and they stepped through hurriedly, ready to deal with whatever appeared on the other side.

Heat and nausea hit - but the men had become used to this from their travels over the recent weeks - and as the world around them came into focus they had a moment to balance and prepare themselves as they looked at where they’d spawned. Thankfully, they’d built the portal far enough away for their previous visits that they’d arrived somewhere brand new, somewhere strange that none of them could recognise, and there was a sense of unease between the six.

“What  _ is  _ this place?” Sapnap asked, stepping forward and listening to the noise that his foot made as it came into contact with the ground beneath him. Usually, netherrack was a rocky, crimson stone, and while the ground beneath them had a similar pattern that was visible there was a thin layer of something almost  _ blue  _ on top. It was soft, as if they were walking on grass, and they all found themselves looking around curiously. The Nether that they were so used to viewing as a barren wasteland, was  _ different _ .

“I don’t know.” George eventually answered, the world before them more of the same underfoot before returning to the usual crimson they were used to seeing. “Maybe it’s part of the prophecy?”

“Surely you’d know about it then?” a6d asked, and George just gave a shrug.

“There’s a lot I don’t know, if I live through all of this maybe I’ll get to learn.”   
  


“You  _ will  _ live.” Bad reassured him. “We all will. Come on, we need to find Pigmen.”

The group began to walk through the strange new world they were in, finding that they were relieved once they had crossed it and had solid netherrack beneath their feet again. The Nether began to open up and before them they could see a wide lava lake, with creatures that they didn’t recognise in small clusters near the shore. They began to descend down a small slope as they walked towards it, the path around the side their goal as they decided that sticking together would be more sensible than splitting up. The more of them that were together, the better chance they’d have with surviving anything they encountered.

While the group continued on, Dream was beginning to walk a little slower than the rest of his friends to build up a gap between them and him. He felt a familiar pain in his forehead accompanied by whispers, demands for him to complete, and he was powerless to say no to the request. His opportunity came when they rounded a particularly tight corner on the approach to the shore of the lake and Dream waited until footsteps could no longer be heard, before he turned and ran.

The cliff face was littered with small caves, holes that looked to have been dug into or eroded away in years gone by - no matter how they’d been formed they kept him hidden and served a purpose now. While he was alone he removed his helmet and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, a hand moving to his temples and rubbing at the pain he felt. 

“I’m doing what you ask, stop  _ hurting me _ .” Dream hissed, placing his helmet on the ground beneath him and leaning his free hand against the wall of the cave to support himself.

While he put pressure on the wall he felt a strange texture, his brows furrowing and his eyes looking at the material questioningly as the pain slowly began to fade. This patch of the wall was cool, it was a different colour, and it was much harder than its surroundings. He reached for the pickaxe at his side and swung at it, but found that it was much too hard to even dent. The place had changed, and he was confused, but a pulse of pain in his mind brought his focus back onto the task at hand.

Ghast tears, he needed Ghast tears, and he grabbed his helmet and made his way out of the cave and back towards the portal.

# # #

The men walked quietly through the Nether, the noise of the lava echoing in the world around them and their mismatched footsteps and clanky armour covering the fact that  _ six  _ had become  _ five _ . Dream had been so quiet over the last few weeks that they weren’t alerted to the fact that he was missing for some time, not expecting to hear his voice chiming in to any conversation. The first indication they were given of his absence was the distant echo of a Ghast scream. It was faint, far away, and they weren’t in danger, but as they’d jerked their heads and looked around it had become  _ very  _ obvious that he was nowhere to be found.

“Should we--”

“We stick to the plan.” George said, cutting off Skeppy before he’d even managed to get his words out. “We’ll find Pigmen soon enough. Whatever Dream’s doing, we’ll address the problem later.”

No one argued with him. His tone was laced with annoyance that was directed at Dream and Dream alone, and determination that they continue to execute their plan as necessary. They needed to find the Pigmen, they had to form an alliance, it was their only real chance of victory.

As the ground beneath their feet changed again, the texture similar to the one they’d encountered before but now  _ red  _ instead of  _ blue _ , confusion only seemed to grow. If this was a sign of the end of times, where were the Pigmen? Surely they should be  _ preparing  _ for whatever was coming for them, unless their lack of a God meant they no longer knew. Maybe they were going to be caught off guard - maybe they’d already all been slaughtered?

But then the familiar sound of Pigmen filled the world around them and they found a small group standing together. They were different, though, and as the five approached them they eyed them angrily. Swords were raised and  _ crossbows  _ were drawn, and they all raised their arms above their heads to show they meant no harm.

“We come in peace!” George said, stepping to the front to come between his friends and the Pigmen before them. “We know what’s going to happen, we want to offer you a pact, an alliance -  _ support _ . Your God was killed.” He said, scrambling for the right words to say. What would they understand?  _ Could  _ they understand him? They had certainly stopped advancing on them, which was a step in the right direction, so George continued to speak.

“The God of the End is planning an attack, we come from the Overworld, we want to form an alliance. Together we can beat him, we can stop whatever he wants to do to our world and to yours, but we need to work together. Do you understand?”

The response came in the form of a grunt, with the Pigman in charge gesturing towards the group of them and the others lowered their weapons and approached them with their hands instead. They began to pat down their armour and reach into their bags, searching through their belongings.

“George, what’re they doing?” Sapnap’s voice was unsure, almost a whisper, and George didn’t dare to move but looked towards him out of the corner of his eyes. 

“No idea.” He replied honestly, a feeble laugh leaving his lips. He was nervous. “Don’t do anything to provoke them, just… Let them do whatever they need to do.”

“Whatever?” Sapnap scoffed, he couldn’t find it in himself to deliver a snarky reply on this occasion and simply remained quiet until he felt one of them grab his new arm and pull at it greedily. “Hey, that’s mine!” He said, pulling back and holding it close to his chest. George whipped his head around at the motion, frowning as he saw the others reach for their weapons. 

“Wait,  _ calm _ , what’s it made out of?”

“Iron, redstone and gold, what do you--”

“Whatever it is you want, we have plenty.” George said to the Pigmen. It appeared that they could understand him, and that he was just unable to translate their language in return. He knew that Illumina had been planning for that, but it would have been useful to have something to help them  _ now _ . In the distance, he could hear more screams of Ghasts and wondered exactly what Dream was getting up to, but he didn’t let his mind wander. They needed to find a way out of this situation before thinking about Dream.

“Iron?” He asked slowly. “Redstone?” No response. “Gold?”

Their heads twitched up and they looked at him eagerly, and now he understood. Gold. They wanted  _ gold _ . Well, they’d been digging to find diamonds and iron for armour, there was no way they hadn’t already found gold as well. 

“Help us, we’ll give you all the gold we have. Tomorrow, we have a portal to the Overworld where we’ll be discussing our plans. Come tomorrow and we’ll give you all the gold you could ever dream of.”

There was a pause, a discussion taking place between these new kind of Pigmen, who eventually nodded. The five men relaxed just a little, and George reached into his bag to take out an invitation for the Pigmen. He doubted they would be able to read it (though perhaps if they could understand them, they would be capable of reading their words as well), but the gesture was the important part. A formal invitation, a promise between the realms to work together to beat Technoblade. 

With every passing second, it became more and more likely that it would work.

The Pigmen took the letter and turned their backs to them, walking away with their weapons and leaving George and the Humans to breathe once more. That had been close, too close, but who could blame them for being so untrusting given the future that lay ahead? Things were dangerous now in a way they hadn’t been before, there was no promise that the decisions they made would be right but they had to try. And, this time, the risk had paid off.

“Let’s get going.” Bad said, his voice wary as he reached for Skeppy’s hand. “I don’t think the Nether is what we’re used to anymore. We shouldn’t be here. We need to find Dream and go.”

His sentiment was echoed by the group through a series of nods and  _ yes _ es, and they turned to journey back from the way they’d come without further question. They all paid more attention to the landscape around them on the return, no longer searching for Pigmen, and the changes were more plentiful and obvious than they’d first thought. In the distance, on the other side of the lava, they could see towering spires of a dark rock. It could almost have been mistaken for a Fortress if it hadn’t been in such an obviously natural formation, and it only furthered their curiosity.  _ Something _ was happening.

The return to the portal was also spent searching for Dream, although he could have gone utterly anywhere and there was a real sense that if he wasn’t found soon they would have to leave without him. It wasn’t something they wanted to do, but what other choice did they have? This new world wasn’t safe for them to stay in any longer than they had to.

Surely finding Dream was something they  _ had  _ to do. That was how this had all started, a month ago, and to think it had been both that long and that short of a time seemed bizarre.

Back with the portal in sight and the ground turning blue under their feet, the decision was made. It was made silently, with no discussion, and no idea just how it had been made - by their leader, through a majority, or unanimously. But regardless of how the silent agreement came to be, they all stepped through the portal together and emerged on the other side. 

The sun was setting, snow was falling, and George made a beeline away from the portal. To find Illumina, the others assumed, but they stood quietly by the obsidian frame and looked to each other for a moment before speaking.

“Do we look for Dream?”

Bad’s words were full of uncertainty. On the one hand, looking for Dream almost felt like betraying George, but Dream was still in the Nether, perhaps unaware of the new dangers, and leaving him behind felt like betraying the morals they had stood for such a short time ago.

“Look for me where?”

Turning around, the four men saw Dream walking towards them from the village, and they blinked at him. A thousand questions were running through their heads, summarized neatly by Sapnap in one statement.

“What the fuck happened, Dream?”

The faint call of  _ language  _ from Bad was lost on Sapnap as Dream began to reply.

“I needed to get something.” He said vaguely, though the explanation didn’t satisfy any of them.

“So you just left us? Dream, you should’ve  _ told us _ , we could’ve come with you, or gotten it afterwards, hell at the very least we’d have  _ known  _ you’d disappeared!” Sapnap said. He was exhausted. He loved Dream with all of his heart and would never  _ stop  _ loving Dream, but sometimes he wanted nothing more than to punch the man for his stupidity.

“I didn’t think, I’m sorry.”

The apology sounded hollow, and there were no more words left to say. As the four walked past Dream and back towards the village he swallowed back his feelings and closed his eyes. George hadn’t even given him the time of day when he’d passed him, and he realised now that the friendships he’d cherished so dearly throughout his life were all coming to an end. 

At least he had Technoblade.

He felt sick when the thought crossed his mind. That man was the  _ reason  _ he was losing his friends, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it. He knew now what he needed to do, though he didn’t know if the thought was his own anymore. But before he could let himself do that, there was one last task he had to complete here.

# # #

Sitting alone in the cold church, illuminated only by flickering candle light, Dream stared at the paper before him and the quill in his hand. Ink slowly dripped from the nib as he considered what to write: how best to phrase everything, how to explain what was happening and how he felt - or if he even should. Bad had suggested that it would be a good way to get everything down but in practice he didn’t even know where to start.

_ Dear George, _

No, scrap that, far too formal. He crossed the words out and moved to start a little below.

_ George. _

_ Everything that’s happened in our lives, we’ve done together. We’ve told each other the truth. We’ve never kept secrets. But that hasn’t been the case lately. _

_ Something happened in the End, but I don’t know what. I can’t explain it, I don’t understand it, and I haven’t known where to begin so I’ve kept everything to myself rather than telling you. I know now that was a mistake, that I should have told someone, but I definitely should have told you. Technoblade is behind this, Technoblade is controlling me. He’s hurting me, he’s changing me, and I’m not like you. I’m not strong enough to fight him when he’s in my head. I’m scared. _

_ No, I’m fucking terrified. And I don’t know how to say it because he’ll kill me if I do. Actually, I’ve got no idea why he’s letting me write any of this down. Maybe he wants you to know? He knows what I’m doing, he can see in my head, he  _ _ knows _ _ I’m doing this.  _

_ Whatever happens to me, I need you to know something George. _

_ I love you. _

_ With all of my heart, with everything in me, I love you. Technoblade might be a God but he won’t ever be able to take that away from me. No matter what he makes me do, never forget that I love you. _

_ And if it comes to it, if you have to kill me, don’t hesitate. I’ll understand, and it’ll hurt less than whatever Technoblade is making me do. Don’t ever blame yourself for killing me if it saves the world, do what you have to do to keep the world safe.  _

_ You’re a God, anyway. I think you’re a little bit out of my league. _

_ Please, George. Stay safe. Stay alive. Do the right thing.  _

_ I love you no matter what happens, now and forever. _

_ Dream. _

Dream felt tears pricking at his eyes as the last of letter was written. The paper was covered in crossings out from everywhere he felt like he hadn’t used the right word, and the odd splotch of ink, but for the most part it was legible. George would find it, read it, and understand - hopefully.

At least he’d have something to know the truth, something to remember the real Dream by.

He folded the piece of paper into three and turned it over, writing George’s name on the front as he decided where would be easiest for him to find it come morning. He stood up with the letter still in his hand and held it out at arms length as he turned his head around, searching his surroundings for a suitable surface.

When his hand felt warm, he turned back towards it and his eyes widened.

The letter was on fire, and while Dream fought with all of his strength to move his arm away from the candle and bat out the flames he found that he was utterly frozen in his position. A quiet whimper left his lips as he felt the familiar pain growing in his mind and now he knew  _ exactly  _ why Technoblade had allowed him to keep writing.

Because giving him hope and taking it away was so much more  _ fun  _ than anything else could possibly be. 

“Please--” The word fell from his lips like a prayer, which was almost ironic considering where he stood and who he was talking to, but he watched the corners of the paper crumble away to ashes and fall to the table beneath. As the flame nipped at his fingers, tears left his eyes and Technoblade finally let him move his arm - Dream pulling his hand away sharply to avoid any more pain. Not that fire could hurt him any more than he already felt inside.

Everything he’d tried to say, his last chance of telling George how he felt, had literally gone up in flames. Dream clenched his hand into a fist and punched the table as hard as he could, the pain shooting through his arm pleasing him somewhat. At least he still had some kind of control over himself, even if that was all he seemed to be able to muster up at the moment. As the pain in his head seared once more he heard a voice calling to him, beckoning him from another realm.

_ “It’s time, traitor. Return to me, bring me what I require. I will see you again soon.” _

He’d lost everything. His friends, the man he loved, and control over himself. Perhaps if he did as he was told, Technoblade would be kinder to him. Perhaps his pain would be replaced with something more rewarding, maybe he would be able to control himself again. Maybe if he did as he was instructed for just a little while longer, he would have everything he wanted.

As Dream left the village with a sword, shield, and bottles of Ghast tears, he wondered just how many of those thoughts had belonged to him. 

He wasn’t sure anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit's getting serious fam B)
> 
> oh & 50 points to whoever can spot the new tag first!


	4. Negotiations & The Calm

The trek to the portal had taken no time at all, not that Dream would have noticed even if it did. Everything around him seemed to morph into something different when he examined it more closely. The trees that stood tall above him seemed to bend out of shape and lean away from him, as if parting to make his journey easier, and the grass that grew beneath his feet might as well have been wilting away with every step he took. The world around him knew something was wrong, and he could no longer tell if it was real or some kind of hallucination, a trick played on him by Technoblade to make him weaker and more susceptible to his control. If that was the case it was certainly working - Dream could feel himself putting up less and less resistance to the calls of the God even as he neared the Stronghold. Monsters avoided him, giving him no trouble as he descended quickly through a steep cave and found a rusty iron door that opened with the push of a button. Torches were placed sporadically through the crumbling corridors he wandered through, guided by the voice in his mind as he turned again and again until he found it.

Stepping into the portal room felt different this time. It felt like there really  _ was  _ no turning back. And that had always been the case before - you could only leave if you killed the Ender Dragon or if you died - but it was much more significant this time.

The next time he saw the Overworld, they would be at war. He would be fighting against his friends. His hands clenched into fists at his sides and Dream let out a deep breath as he gave up the last of his control. He was nothing more than a puppet now, and as he climbed the steps to the already completed portal he closed his eyes. 

He wished himself a silent goodbye, knowing that no one else would know what was happening to him. No one else would give a damn. His friends would see him as an enemy, a traitor, and would want him dead, and his heart lay shattered in his chest.

Holding back tears and a choked sob, Dream stepped through the portal. He felt himself falling, the world around him black and filling with stars as the void gave way to the End and he was dropped unceremoniously on the obsidian platform. As he got to his feet and straightened his back, body shaking, he looked up towards the now familiar island. He’d been to this place many times, but never like this. 

The sky was different. The stars still flickered around him, the hint that somewhere out there something other than the void existed, but they were obscured. High above, crawling forward inch by inch, were dozens - if not hundreds - of ships. The End Ships were descending on the island from all angles, from every City that existed in the realm, bringing hundreds upon hundreds of soldiers with them. The Endermen were prepared for this battle, far more than the Human’s ever could be. They didn’t stand a chance.

“My wonderful traitor.”

Technoblade’s voice boomed and echoed across the realm, his deep timbre reverberating in Dream’s chest and rendering him utterly helpless. As he took a step forward to approach the island, he felt a strong hand cup his chin and blinked. Technoblade had manifested before him and now looked down at him with dark eyes. Dream forced himself to continue breathing as his hand moved away from his chin and closer to his throat, thumb running over exposed skin and leaving Technoblade smiling before he pulled away. 

While Technoblade teleported to the main platform Dream was left to scramble after him, pulling himself atop of the endstone and standing still when he reached the flat surface. As the wide expanse of rock lay out before him, he could see Technoblade standing, commanding the realm with little more than his posture and his presence. But he also saw something else - some _ one  _ else. Standing just as tall, but not quite as threatening. Their eyes were white like he’d seen George’s turn on occasion, and although they were consistently white they were hidden behind dark glasses. Dream found himself wary of this new person, of the situation he found himself in, and remained still while waiting for Technoblade or for the other to approach.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“Eret, you’ll take Dream to his home in the palace?”

That alone gave Dream had a long list of questions to ask, but as the shorter man silently walked past Technoblade and approached him with an extended hand he kept quiet.

“I expect you to make yourself at home here, Dream. You are, after all, one of us now. You’ll be working with Eret and will lead our attack, the two of you ought to get to know each other over the coming days.”

With that, Technoblade vanished, and Dream saw the younger man (Eret, he presumed) clench a fist together tightly when he knew he wasn’t being watched. His face shifted and he walked towards Dream a little more angrily, grabbing his arm roughly and letting his fingers dig into his skin just a little.

“You can’t even  _ teleport  _ unaided.” He sneered, taking Dream to the End City as Technoblade had requested. 

The walk through the palace was just that - a walk - and Dream took the time to memorize as much as he could about his surroundings and the man before him. He was shorter than Dream, but it didn’t stop him from being intimidated by his obvious power. He wondered if he knew George, or perhaps had simply met a similar fate to his friend, and thought about how many more people there could be like him.

Was  _ he  _ going to end up like them too?

It was a nervous thought, but one he was given no time to consider as Eret stopped at a large purpur door, a hand outstretched and ready to push it open. He waited for Dream to focus on him again before he moved.

“Your bedroom. Sleep now, you’ll be sent for when we’re ready for you.” Eret commanded, his eyes on Dream rather than the room, and as Dream stepped forward he opened his mouth to ask questions.

“Ready for what?” He started, looking back over his shoulder to Eret to find that the man had disappeared, and that the door was swinging closed behind him. Dream was left alone with his questions, his confusion and curiosity, and the door fell into place with a heavy click. Purple silk sheets lined the bed and endstone tiles covered the floor beneath his feet: the room was clearly made to be regal. It made sense, it was a palace, and Dream decided to let his curiosity have  _ some  _ satisfaction as he toed off his boots and let himself examine the room before giving in to the sleep his body craved.

He opened each drawer he could find, looking into them and searching for clues as to who they expected him to become. But everything seemed to be empty, and he was given less answers than he’d hoped for. The wardrobe at least held some clue to the identity of who he was to be. A uniform, purple, made from a light fabric and shimmering somewhat as he looked at it, and a strange suit of armour beside. The material it was made from was black, almost as if it was obsidian but Dream knew, logically, that couldn’t be the case. Perhaps it was something that had been created and designed by the Endermen themselves, maybe something stronger than diamond, or maybe he was entirely wrong in his thinking. 

As he turned away from the wardrobe and closed the doors behind him, he looked to his left. There was a large window that gave way to a wide view of the void, with some kind of plants growing high into the sky towards the edges of the island, and Dream felt a sigh fall from his lips. He wondered what, if this place didn’t go to war, it could become. How much more could the three realms grow? How would they change? He supposed that if the End won, the question would still be answered - just not in the way he was hoping for.

Beside the window was a painting, and it took Dream a long moment to realise what he was looking at.

Herobrine and Eret, side by side in portrait form, and Dream let his mind wander. He wondered how he played into all of this when Technoblade had two powerful men at his side already - he could only imagine that George’s refusal to join him on this occasion had forced his hand and left him with no choice but to use Dream to pick up the pieces. But George had stood with him before, maybe he would again.

Dream stood there for several long minutes, just enjoying the chance to look at George again. It was stupid, nothing more than an old portrait of the man he was in love with, but it gave him something to cling to. George, he was doing this for George. He  _ could  _ change his mind and chose to stand with them - with  _ him  _ \- and they could have everything together. With a heavy sigh, Dream found himself moving to the silk sheets and lying his head against the number of plush pillows that surrounded him. The bed was a comfort like he’d never experienced before, and with the light silk over his body he fell asleep quickly, and for the first time in weeks he was left to sleep without nightmares plaguing him.

He’d made the right decision. This would all be over soon and he and George would be together, like they belonged, ruling over the realms with Technoblade and Eret.  _ He would be rewarded for being on the right side of history. _

# # #

“A mortal, really? A mortal you haven’t even  _ changed _ yet?”

Technoblade had his back turned, but didn’t have to look around to hear the anger in Eret’s voice. The young man was driven and determined, and Technoblade was often proud of him, but there was still plenty he had to learn. Patience and planning, the last he would teach his creation for fear that he may betray him if taught too soon.

“He’s more than just that.” He said, the bottom of his coat billowing out behind him as he spun to look at Eret. With a smirk on his face he closed the gap between them, his hand resting on his shoulder. “You have trained for so long, you are so loyal and you  _ will _ be a worthy ruler when the Overworld falls. That man is a strong fighter, but he’s someone I can risk losing. Losing all the hard work I’ve put into you over the years would be nothing short of devastating.” 

“If I led, you wouldn’t have to  _ worry  _ about losing anything.”

“Herobrine has returned.” Technoblade said, and while Eret was at a loss of the relevance to their current conversation he found himself stumbling over his thoughts and falling into a stunned silence. Herobrine was a legend, a myth, a man that he had very little memory of. He  _ knew  _ that Technoblade had tried to turn Eret into something similar to him, that Herobrine was the original experiment, and that he had been training for years with the purpose of being  _ better  _ than him.

“I thought he was a story-”

“He is real, the story is real, but he was weak and he fell. Unlike you,  _ you  _ are so much stronger than Herobrine ever was. You could easily decimate him, but Dream is Herobrine’s weakness.”

Eret shifted where he stood. He was stronger than Herobrine? His confidence had always been a strong suit, the knowledge that he  _ was  _ powerful and he  _ was  _ worthy without knowing the truth about himself, but  _ stronger than Herobrine _ ? Even he knew not to gloat like that.

“Herobrine will be distracted with Dream, he’ll be unable to harm him, you’ll deliver the final blow. With the Nether already taken care of, and Illumina busy with me, you will claim ownership of the Overworld. Like you were  _ made  _ to. You’ve spent your life training and working to reach this point, you’ve faced every challenge I’ve given to you and you’ve grown immeasurably. Perhaps, one day, your powers will match even mine, but even with what you have still to learn I believe you are ready to lead a world of your own. 

The promise of power blinded Eret to his anger, and any thoughts he had against his mentor left him. Before long he would have more control than he could ever have imagined before, an entire realm at his fingertips. He just needed to be a little patient.

# # # 

Sapnap awoke in the morning to the sound of a dog whining, and when he let his eyes open and he looked down to the bunks below him he could see the dog that had followed them from the forest - the dog that Dream had befriended - sitting on his bed sadly. The sheets were untouched from the night before, in the exact position they had been when the group had gone to sleep for the night, and Sapnap frowned. Normally, Dream came and went without them seeing,  _ especially  _ when there was tension between them, but now there was no trace of him.

He supposed they’d been  _ particularly  _ angry with him for his stupidity in the Nether the day before, and he may simply have wanted to be alone for a night. It wasn’t that out of character for him, but Sapnap didn’t like the way that the dog seemed to be pawing at his pillow.

Scrambling down from his own bunk and brushing the dog’s ears with his hand, he gave the poor thing a reassuring smile and spoke in a gentle tone.

“He’ll be back soon enough.” Sapnap said quietly. “We’re all just a bit on edge at the moment, he just needs some space to breathe. Once this is all over, things will be okay again.”

It was a lie, he knew damn well it was, but telling that to the dog at least made him feel a little more confident in his words. 

Skeppy was the next to awake and the two decided to get a headstart that morning, dressing and grabbing breakfast for themselves before heading to the blacksmiths. The building had been expanded, with smelters, blast furnaces, anvils and hot fires now stretching out into the streets nearby. It meant that more people could work on crafting the armour and the tools that they desperately needed to fight, and as they walked through the intense heat that juxtaposed the cold winter’s day, they spotted what they were looking for.

Gold, and  _ lots  _ of it.

Gold was very much a  _ worst case scenario _ for the fight. It wasn’t as resilient as iron or diamond, and while it would prove to be better than nothing, it wouldn’t offer protection for long for those wearing it. It was why, for the most part, the gold had been formed into blocks and ingots for storage, but not melted down and shaped for use. As the two men approached the blacksmith they were greeted with a smile, and Sapnap started up the conversation.

“Is this all the gold we have?”

“All the gold that’s been mined. Plenty of ore still left in the ground but it’s not  _ particularly  _ useful right now, we’ve been mining round to save time when we can.”

“Can we take it?” Skeppy asked. “They’re negotiating an alliance with Pigmen and Illagers today, it’ll work as a gift, a gesture of peace, it might help reach an agreement sooner.”

“Be my guest, anything that gives us a better chance is worth trying.”

“Thank you.” Sapnap smiled, both men taking what they could carry with them to the church and setting it down on the table. Things had been rearranged for the meeting later that day, with chairs instead of pews surrounding the tables, spaces for the Illagers and the Pigmen to discuss their own thoughts privately, and a small contraption lay on the centre of the table. As Sapnap picked it up curiously he heard a voice from behind him.

“It will translate, and that will allow George and I to have a better dialogue with the species. If we can all understand each other and our intentions, and the threat looming over us, we will be able to come to an agreement sooner. The sooner that happens, the better things will be for all of us.”

Skeppy and Sapnap nodded. The day was going to be strange, they both knew that while this was happening behind closed doors they would be continuing to train the villagers to use weapons, but not being in the same room as the agreement was being drafted up would leave them all wondering. They wouldn’t know until everything was complete what happened - what was given, what  _ could  _ have been given, and what was fought for. They just had to hope that the decisions the men came to would be ones that benefitted them all.

They helped with the last bits of preparation before leaving the church, both wanting to wait for George to arrive to wish him luck for the day. When he did appear they were glad they’d done so, because his face was a mixture of worry and exhaustion, and even as they offered him a smile they could see that he wasn’t going to lighten up any time soon.

“Have either of you seen Dream this morning?” George asked, both shaking their heads and watching as his shoulders fell just a little. He caught himself quickly, trying to hide how he felt, but they’d seen. Neither commented on it as his gaze moved from them to Illumina over their shoulders, but they understood that it was time for them to leave. Wishing them both  _ good luck  _ in quiet tones _ ,  _ they raised their hands and waved, removing themselves from the building and giving the two time to discuss what needed to be done before the other parties arrived.

The door to the church closed with a heavy sound and George’s eyes met Illumina’s once more. 

“Hero-”

“He’s gone, hasn’t he? I can’t feel him here anymore, he’s not in this realm.”

“You’ve grown too attached. Stop worrying-”

“How am I supposed to stop  _ worrying _ ?” He demanded, one hand leaving his side as his frustrations tried to escape him. “He’s Dream, he’s my best friend, I lo-”

“He’s  _ mortal _ , Herobrine.” Illumina said, raising his voice and cutting George off in the middle of his reply. “No matter where he is, the risks to him are the same in this war as anyone else. You’re worrying over something you cannot prevent.”

“We’re  _ Gods! _ ” George yelled, his fists clenching tightly. “You  _ create  _ life, why can’t we preserve his? I don’t want to lose him, I  _ can’t  _ lose him. If Technoblade’s taken him--”

“If your father has taken him, then we have plenty more to worry about.” Illumina replied, his voice still raised but his tone much calmer. “There is more at stake than just your friend, we have to think about this logically. Today, we have to form an alliance, we don’t need to be driven by emotions and impulse. Do you understand, Herobrine?”

George’s anger and worry didn’t leave him, even as Illumina turned away to signal that the conversation was over. He was terrified for Dream, afraid of what his father might do. And then there was another worry, a far worse one in his mind that until now he hadn’t considered.

What if Dream was there of his own free will?

George stood mournfully for several minutes as he tried to grapple with the realisation he’d come to, blinking back tears and remembering exactly what he’d been told. Exactly what he  _ needed  _ to remember. His father would do  _ anything  _ to have him back at his side, and he needed to remember the side of the fight he had chosen to be on. The cause was more important than anything else, Technoblade was relying on George giving in to his selfishness and his love for Dream, and as much as it pained him not to cave there and then he simply dug his fingers painfully into his skin and found himself at Illumina’s side, silently continuing the preparations that needed completing.

The silence between them was fraught with a tension that hadn’t been there before, but eventually the doors to the church opened and guests arrived: the peaceful party of Illagers, followed only a few short minutes later by the Pigmen. Illumina took the lead of the situation, still concerned that George was too emotional to be trusted with speaking right now, and set about the formalities. He explained how to use the translator that had been created, letting them each practice with it and get comfortable with the process before beginning to negotiate. 

To his credit, George bit his tongue. He knew that Illumina had the most power here - he was the God of the Overworld and George was the son of the enemy, but Illumina also had a lot more experience with war and with alliances. In the grand scheme of things, George was unsure that he actually  _ needed  _ to be there, but he understood the use it had. It meant that if something happened to either of them, someone else would be able to continue with the union, someone would be able to lead, and given the steps that Technoblade had already taken to prepare it was important to have a contingency.

Negotiations went well, and the time passed quickly. The urgency of it all was clear to see and none of them were particularly upset about any of the terms suggested for their alliance. The Pigmen would act as a liaison between the Overworld and the Nether, and the battle would remain in the Overworld for as long as possible. They would fight alongside the Humans and the Illagers, and would be able to bring ingredients for potions from across the realm, allowingIllumina and George to prepare a range of remedies. The beacon was useful, but if the battle strayed from the village potions would be much more helpful for healing and for protection. In return, the Overworld would provide them with gold - and lots of it. Relations between the two worlds would also shift after the war, but the complexities and details of that going forward were left for another day.

With the Illagers, the discussions were tougher. They were upset about Dream, the fact that he had killed and stolen from them, and when Illumina explained that he was no longer with them George felt himself flinch. This wasn’t how it was meant to be. 

They had accepted the payment for the Totems, and were happy to continue making more for the right price. While the village had no more emeralds to hand, the Illagers agreed to let them rack up a debt. People were arriving to help fight from all over the realm - they would be able to find the emeralds they needed to pay. They would also fight alongside the Humans and Pigmen, although they wanted to be able to lead rather than take orders from Humans. A compromise was reached here - they would lead together and share their knowledge.

George was somewhat surprised by how easy everything had been to arrange, though with the threat of invasion growing with every passing second (and the scale of the destruction that would come with it well documented), fear spurred them on. Paperwork was signed, hands were shaken, and the Illagers were the first group to leave. They had to return to their mansion and contact their outposts to let them know what was happening, while the Pigmen only had to travel as far as the Nether portal on the outskirts of the village. As the two groups were left alone the conversation turned to gold - and how the Pigmen would receive it.

“The four ingots on the table are the beginnings of what we have, I can take you to our blacksmith who has the rest of what’s been mined and smelted. Anything more than that we’ll need to extract, but we’ll be happy to bring it to you directly in the Nether if you wish.” Illumina said, pressing a button for his words to be translated and waiting for the Pigmen to respond in turn.

“Take these.” They said, offering out a selection of brown metal scraps. As George reached forwards and took them, turning them over in his hands to examine them, they continued to speak. “Combined with gold they make a durable material. It’s strong. It could be used for defenses from the attack.”

George looked to Illumina, who was eyeing the metal closely in his hand and saying nothing, just  _ thinking _ , and so he smiled and thanked the Pigmen for their gift. If Illumina had no qualms with it, he would take the material to the blacksmith and see what they could do with it after combining it with gold. There wasn’t much of the material, perhaps a few ingots worth, but maybe something of use could be made with them.

Taking his silence as the all clear to go ahead, George took the translator and led the Pigmen through the streets of the village. They were understandably cold in the winter weather, and as they approached the warmth of the furnaces they seemed much more comfortable in their surroundings. Leaving them to stand in the heat, conscious of people staring at them from a distance as they attempted to go about their day, George stepped inside with the metal scraps in hand. As his eyes scanned the room for more gold, he began to converse with the blacksmith.

“We’ve been given this, as a gift. Do you recognise it at all?” George asked, handing the metal over. “It’s not like anything I’ve seen before, it’s from the Nether.”

“From the Nether?” Came the curious reply, the metal being taken from his hands and carefully scrutinized. “Never seen anything like this in my life, where’d you find it?”

“Pigmen, they gave it to us, said if you combine it with gold it makes a tough alloy. It’s something we might be able to use to our advantage if you can figure out a way to create it. Do you have time?”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll find anything that works, but if they’ve said it’ll do something I can give it a try. Leave it with me.”

“Thank you.” George smiled, gesturing to the ingots in the corner. “We’ll be taking most of this for the alliance with the Pigmen, take whatever you need for this while I start to help get this across into their realm.”

With that, George bid the blacksmith farewell and began to take what he could carry. He found that he could hold far more ingots than he used to be able to, assuming that this must have something to do with being a God. There was no way he, or any of his friends would manage to carry such weight before. 

He took the Pigmen back to the portal and made several journeys with gold in tow, seeing their eyes grow several sizes each time he returned. Once everything they had was delivered and George returned to the Overworld for the final time, he felt his entire body sagging with the weight of  _ everything  _ on his shoulders. He’d been thankful for the manual labour, it had helped to keep his mind away from Dream for just a little longer, but how he was supposed to continue now was beyond him. Dream was gone, in the End, with Technoblade. He’d either betrayed them or been captured, and he wasn’t sure which would break his heart more. Whatever had been happening for the last few days, George felt as though he should have been paying more attention. He should’ve spoken to Dream more, should’ve  _ been there  _ for him and  _ listened _ rather than just leapt to conclusions. And now? Now it could all be just a little too late.

George returned to the bunk early that day, electing to avoid his friends. He had no idea how he would be able to explain Dream’s disappearance to him, his only hope really to feign ignorance and hope that the worst would never come true. He saw the poor dog, Dream’s friend, lying on his bed fast asleep and George hesitated for a moment. He might have been a God but he still brought his hands in front of him and fidgeted as he fought back the insecurities in his mind, before finally giving in and slipping onto Dream’s bunk. His arms wrapped tightly around the dog that remained largely undisturbed by the shift, though his head moved and rested close to George’s chest. As he placed his head on Dream’s pillow and took in a deep breath - reminding himself what it felt like to be near Dream - he closed his eyes. 

Sleep came for him quickly. He could find Dream in his dreams, though the irony was lost on him. As night fell and his friends returned, their concern couldn’t be hidden. Silently, they went about preparing themselves for bed. And if Bad and Skeppy held each other just a little tighter in their sleep, with Skeppy’s face pressed close to Bad’s neck and his arms tightly wrapped around his waist, no one mentioned it. Even  _ if  _ a6d and Sapnap had struggled to escape their thoughts and fall asleep themselves, they brought no attention to the situation they were in. No one said anything. No one needed to. 

Somehow, after everything they’d done and everything they’d sacrificed, they’d lost Dream.

They had no choice but to keep going without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we have a new character - a new foe! - eret has entered the arena! :D i wonder how that will turn out (spoiler alert, *i* know how it'll turn out!) hope you're all enjoying, the pace of the story is really about to pick up & i don't think we're going to have another "chill" chapter until things are all over...


	5. Hope & Despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, SUPER important note here!! this chapter has bumped the rating up to an M, this is because this chapter gets a bit gorey & medical. if you're not comfortable with this, that part begins when there's 3 bolded #'s (or when we shift to eret's perspective). i'll add a "tldr" at the end to summarise that bit! stay safe!

A week passed by with no change in circumstance. Dream was still woefully absent and the worry his friends felt grew exponentially day by day: the impact it was having on their wellbeing was clear for all to see. George had retreated from the group even more, pushing himself far beyond his limits just to feel _something_ that wasn’t worry. Sapnap had been learning how to use his new arm, spending every waking moment practicing the exercises Dream had shown him - it was the one way he had to feel close to the man even without his physical presence. 

While Bad had at first taken on his usual role of support, trying to keep the two most affected in decent condition, cracks were beginning to show even in him. If Skeppy or a6d turned to look at him at just the right moment, they would catch sight of him staring out into the horizon with his eyes full of unshed tears, silent regret kept to himself by the skin of his teeth. But then he’d see them, and he’d smile and start talking about something completely different. Skeppy would take hold of his hand and squeeze tightly, but wouldn’t push for him to talk about anything he didn’t want to. He could just remind him that he wasn’t alone, that he was beside him and wasn’t going anywhere.

Bad would squeeze his hand back from time to time, silently conveying that he was doing a lot worse than he dared to let on. 

The evenings, which they had all once spent together, became quiet and separated. Bad and Skeppy would go for long walks together, Skeppy knew that was the one time Bad would let himself be vulnerable and open, so he tried to give him that opportunity as much as possible. He didn’t care about walking in the dark and the cold for hours on end, if it helped Bad he’d do  _ anything _ .

Sapnap and a6d would sit quietly in the bunkhouse, barely speaking. Sometimes, they would play cards together, but most of the time they remained alone with their thoughts.

George was barely seen by any of them, though his return from training was marked each morning with him sinking into Dream’s bed that was smelling less and less like him with every passing day. Soon, the last traces of him would be gone, and their minds would be left to run wild with fear.

That night, George’s sword clashed fiercely with Illumina’s on the top of the mountain. He brought the metal down hard and fast, and yelled with all of his might as he heard the clanging sounds of their weapons parrying together. Strike after strike, clash after clash, George was on the offensive. He moved forwards quickly, barely giving Illumina time to counter each hit. He lifted a leg to kick towards him, but Illumina raised his other hand and pushed George back from him. The younger man stumbled to the ground, dropping his weapon and feeling his body ache all over from the landing. The snow had at least cushioned his fall somewhat, but the cold almost convinced him to stay lying there and give in. 

He could close his eyes,  _ give up _ , pretend none of this was real and succumb to the rest he desperately needed.

Instead, he focused on his powers and reached out to bring a bolt of lightning crashing down towards them. The rumble of thunder rang out from above as he managed to hit Illumina, though he was considerably less affected by it than he’d hoped. Illumina practically walked the strike off, and George growled through gritted teeth, pushing himself up to his feet to begin to fight again. 

As soon as he stood up he recognised that he’d made a mistake. Beneath him his legs felt like jelly, and his bones might as well have melted and turned completely to paste as he buckled at the knees. He tried to catch himself as he fell forwards, wanting to use his sword as a crutch, but the rest of his body followed his legs. He was certain his eyes were open, but the world around him was black and dark. He felt his face colliding with the ground beneath him, a painful crack echoing in his ears when his forehead hit the side of a rock. The last thing he heard was Illumina’s voice calling his name, and then everything left him.

# # #

When the door to the bunkhouse opened early that morning, it was enough to wake up the men that slept inside. Normally, George would come in silently and collapse into the bed for a few hours at most without disturbing the others, but as the light was clicked on Bad sat up and ignored the quiet groan coming from Skeppy beside him as he lost the warmth he’d been able to feel before.

“Geo-  _ George?!” _

Suddenly awake, Bad pushed himself out of bed and grabbed his glasses as Illumina rested George’s unconscious form on the empty lower bunks. One of his eyes was bruised and swollen, and a cut leaking blue blood from his forehead was clear to see. 

“He has been pushing himself too hard, he needs to rest.” Illumina said, his tone quiet and gravelly as the conversation had Sapnap, a6d and Skeppy watching from their own positions in the room. Bad looked at George sadly, the heartbreak in his eyes obvious as he realised just how poorly he’d been treating himself. He’d seen it, they all had, he just hadn’t assumed it would amount to anything this serious. 

“We’ll take care of him, we’ll make sure he gets the rest he needs.” Bad replied, a hand coming into careful contact with George and gently pushing the hair out of his face. He let his fingers linger against his skin for several long moments, letting himself take in a breath and  _ feel  _ that George was still alive and safe before his mind ran away with fear. George was okay, he wouldn’t have to internalise the loss of another friend, but this served as a harsh reminder that they  _ all  _ needed to take better care of themselves.

Illumina spent a few quiet minutes tending to the wound on George’s forehead, stemming the bleeding and cleaning the cut, and Bad clambered back into bed beside Skeppy. He wrapped his arms tightly around the younger man and buried his face in his chest, needing the comfort and needing to be selfish for just a little while - just enough to be able to look after them all the following day. When Illumina left he turned the light out, and the men were left in darkness to try and fall back to sleep.

Morning came all too slowly for those that hadn’t managed to give in to the need to rest. Sapanp was the first to get out of bed, and the others followed suit as if they’d been waiting with baited breath for someone to make the first move. They dressed themselves silently, the shuffling of fabric and belt buckles the only sound to be heard, and slipped into their boots. Pulling on a few extra layers to combat the cold, Bad gave them all a nervous smile.

“We’re taking a day off.” He said, attempting to be as cheerful as possible. “We’ll have breakfast, I’ll come back and look after George in the morning and the three of you can do whatever you want to relax. Read books, play games… Illumina was right, George has been pushing himself, but we all have too. We can’t afford to all be unconscious when the End makes their move. One day off will do us all a world of good.”

Quiet murmurs and nods of agreement came from the other three, and after one last check on George they left to enjoy breakfast together. Skeppy and Bad held hands, letting themselves think about each other rather than the war looming on the horizon. Things would be okay, they’d have each other, and when this was over they’d be able to start the rest of their lives together. Even without speaking, they were both thinking it, and Skeppy leaned over his croissant to press a small kiss to Bad’s lips. His cheeks turned red, though he would put that down entirely to the cold around them, and they let themselves laugh.

It had felt like a lifetime since they’d all  _ laughed  _ together.

Once they’d eaten their fill and drank enough coffee and hot chocolate to help the chill leave their bones, they said a short goodbye to Bad and promised to visit him at lunchtime. Sapnap offered to spend the afternoon with George, letting the three have some much needed group relaxation, and they parted ways. Bad returned to the bunkhouse with breakfast for George, intent on forcing him to spend at the very least the morning in bed recovering, while the three men began to walk slowly through the snow covered village until the cobblestone path turned to grass. 

It was strange just how much the world around them had changed since this had all begun. Once upon a time they would have left the village and been in open fields, running after each other, laughing, plotting and planning… Now those open fields were flooded with hundreds of tents and poorly built homes, packed together like a shanty town as people from all over the world had come to join in the fight. Now, the grassy fields were overrun with people. The ground beneath their feet was muddy, snow turned to slush as hundreds of people wandered through and tried to make a path towards the village. The beauty was gone, replaced now with the need to survive and the sheer desperation that accompanied every step everyone took. No one was here lightheartedly, everyone knew what was coming and what fate could await them, but they were here in spite of that risk - to give their loved ones a chance at living and to keep the prophecy from unfolding.

While it was mostly men and women that had arrived, there were occasions when children too had come along. Sometimes, there had been no choice for the parents to make but bring their children with them. Other times it appeared that some of the older children had made their own way to the village and that they were determined to fight. For the most part, they were kept out of the way. People did everything in their power to keep them from seeing how to train with weapons, trying not to expose them to the realities of the situation they were in. It meant on the outskirts of the tents - away from the mines that dug deep down into the world’s core - there were children playing and laughing. Children climbed trees, tossed around balls and built snowmen: despite everything,  _ humanity  _ endured, happiness prevailed, and seeing it fanned the fire beneath every person that arrived to fight.

They would die to give these children a chance to live. They could win. 

As the three spoke to each other they were caught off guard when a snowball hit the back of a6d’s knee, all turning around to see a group of children looking up at them sheepishly. The youngest was about three, the oldest couldn’t have been more than ten, and giggles and toothy grins filled their sights. Clearly, these kids wanted a challenge. Who were they to back down?

“You might want to run.” Sapnap said, crouching down and picking up a handful of snow, patting it into a ball slowly and watching as the action had the children backing away slowly. Laughter still left their mouths, though it turned into high pitched squeals when Sapnap threw the snowball towards them all. He very deliberately missed, but it was enough for the youngest children to scream and turn away in hysterics. While Sapnap laughed at their reactions, he felt a snowball collide with the back of his head and turned around to see Skeppy laughing at him. Shaking the snow from his hair, he neglected to mention to Skeppy that a6d was approaching from behind with armfuls of snow - and was in  _ stitches  _ when he watched the man dump it over his head. 

As the three found themselves engaged in snowy-combat, they ran their separate way to begin a fight far more intense than it needed to be. The children all picked sides, running after those they wanted to fight with, and Sapnap found himself on a team with a young boy and his little sister. 

“Right, we need to build up a barricade.” He told them, starting to push snow in a pile in front of them and shaping it upwards to provide cover. “You two hide behind here, and no traitorous moves. We’re gonna win, you don’t want to join them.”

The children laughed, helping Sapnap by starting to make a small pile of snowballs for him to throw. As the pile grew, Sapnap extended the little wall he’d made and poked his head out from the side. Skeppy and a6d were engaged in their own battle, with half baked defenses that could be easily overcome, and he turned to face the children beside him. Looking at the little girl he picked up two snowballs and handed them to her carefully. 

“You see that man over there in the blue hoodie?” He asked, pointing to Skeppy. “You need to run up to him and throw those two at him okay?” The little girl nodded in response, and he gave her a mock salute with two of his fingers before she ran off. Turning his attention to the boy, who was a little older than his sister and already looking determined towards a6d, he smirked. 

“We’ll get him together.” He said, grabbing a handful of snowballs for the boy and himself. “Come on, he’s distracted, we’ll sneak around now.”

As the two crept quietly through the snow, keeping their distance from a6d as he was focused entirely on fighting with Skeppy. A few moments later they heard a yell coming from the man as he was hit by two snowballs and _operation_ _distraction_ was completed. The children that had taken Skeppy’s side ran off with snowballs and chased after the young girl, all laughing happily and keeping the attention away from Sapnap and the boy as they approached a6d. Realising that the snow crunching beneath their feet would be a dead giveaway of their approach, they began to charge and shouted at the top of their lungs, causing him to turn around in surprise and stumble backwards into his small defense. Now on the ground, on his back and covered in snow, he was an easy target. Sapnap pelted him with snowballs as Skeppy ran across to join the fight, and even the children that had been on a6d’s side started throwing mounds of snow on top of him.

“Do you surrender?” Skeppy asked, a6d waving an arm above his head as if he were in trouble. The children and Sapnap stopped throwing snow at him for a moment, but as he got to his feet he quickly started to throw snowballs around them. 

The children ran off laughing, returning to play with their other friends, and the three men looked at each other breathlessly. They laughed, shaking their heads and sitting back down in the snow as they calmed themselves down. 

“I think we can safely say that  _ I  _ won that.” Sapnap said, looking up at the sky. The sun was starting to break through the clouds and even though it wasn’t particularly warm, it was beautiful. 

“No, I think I got a6d to surrender, so I won.” Skeppy chimed in, and while Sapnap still considered himself victorious he shrugged.

“a6d  _ definitely  _ didn’t win.” He said, and Skeppy and a6d both found themselves laughing in response. It was hard to argue with that, given how the battle had ended. 

As they sat back up and dusted the snow from their backs, several of the children were approaching the group again, this time not armed with snowballs and giggles but curious eyes that followed Sapnap as he moved. He realised after a moment that they were looking at him, and after a second longer he figured out  _ why  _ they were looking at him. He supposed it was a little bit unusual, and that the children would naturally have questions, so he held out his arm and beckoned them closer.

“It’s okay, you can look.” He said. As the children came to look at the prosthetic he stayed still, letting them feel comfortable with it. “It doesn’t hurt. I lost my arm when I was helping my friend, and he made me a brand new one. It works just like normal.”

He then held both arms out in front of him, opening and closing his hands into fists and wiggling his fingers to show that there wasn’t really a difference between them.

“It  _ is  _ super strong, though. Let me show you.”

With that, Sapnap got to his feet and held his mechanical hand out for one of the children to take. When one of the boys grabbed hold of it he lifted his arm up quickly and the boy whooped with glee, his friends laughing as they watched him from below. 

“See what I mean? Super strong!” 

He felt the child fidgeting and shifting, trying to pull himself up higher, and Sapnap just brought his arm down to make sure he didn’t fall from too great of a height if he slipped. When he gave up and found himself back on the floor, Sapnap held his arm out again and one of the younger children took his hand, comparing it to hers by tracing the lines on her palm and then the redstone wires she could see through the iron covers. Sapnap crouched down before her as her fingers followed the redstone carefully, curiosity getting the better of her. 

“Can I have one?” She asked, her voice soft. “It looks pretty.”

“You have two brilliant arms right now.” Sapnap told her, giving her a smile. “You don’t want to lose them, promise you.”

“How  _ did  _ you lose your arm? Did it hurt?” 

That question came from an older girl, and Sapnap chuckled every so slightly. 

“Yeah.” He told them. “It hurt a lot. My friend was in trouble and we had to go into the Nether to find stuff to help bring him back, but the Nether has lots of dangerous things in there and one of them hit my hand. The cut was very bad, and it made my arm start getting sick, so we had to get rid of it so the rest of me didn’t get sick too.”

“I know what that is, that’s a Wither Skeleton, my daddy told me all about them!” She said, Sapnap nodding along. 

“That’s right. It made my arm all poorly, and now I have a special one. But it’s okay, because I’m going to use it to keep all of you safe. I’ll be the greatest hero you’ve ever seen.” He said with a grin, using his right hand to ruffle the girl’s hair. “And one day  _ you _ might be a brave adventurer, you could  _ see  _ a Wither Skeleton all by yourself. But you have to promise to stay away from them, okay?”

As the girl nodded, Sapnap waved them off with his hand and with their curiosity satisfied they ran off cheerfully, leaving the three alone again as they went to play in the snow.

“Alright, Dadnap.” Skeppy quipped, and Sapnap just laughed at him, shaking his head and picking up a pile of snow to shove into his chest.

“You and Bad are the couple, you’re the ones that are having a kid first.” a6d pointed out. 

“I just mean, Sapnap’s good with kids. And we’re  _ not  _ having kids, we use protection.”

“Dude, come  _ on _ !” Sapnap exclaimed. “We all sleep in that room, tell me you’re joking!”

Skeppy just grinned, breaking out into a laugh after several long moments. When he felt himself being pushed playfully back into the snow on the ground he held his hands up.

“Alright, alright, it’s a joke! But you  _ were  _ good with those kids, they loved your arm.”

“I loved redstone growing up.” Sapnap shrugged. “If I ever had kids, I’d teach them everything I knew. Y’know, something to help them cause havoc with. I just think it’d be a good thing to do, give kids decent skills. I don’t think I’m gonna be a dad anytime soon but… Maybe one day. Maybe once this is all over a6d and I can be each other's wingmen. Though I think I’m way too hot to make a woman go for him.”

“Maybe, but if you open your mouth you make me seem a lot smarter.” a6d replied, nudging Sapnap in the side just a little.

As the three laughed, the sun was hidden behind the clouds once more and they got to their feet to return to the village. They could warm up and spend some time with Bad and George, before the trio would spend the afternoon together and Sapnap and George could have an afternoon to themselves. It would be difficult to be alone without Dream, but maybe they’d be able to talk a little more about how his absence was affecting them. Maybe they’d be able to help each other get through how they were feeling.

When the five men sat in the bunkhouse, everything was filled with laughter and happiness. For the first time in weeks, they felt like their old selves, like there was no responsibility on their shoulders and not a care in the world for them to face. Things were okay, and soon they would be so much more than okay.

Right?

**# # #**

The walls of the palace felt as if they were closing in on Eret as he walked. He could teleport, easily, but he elected to walk. It gave him more time to think, more time to be alone with his thoughts. More time to find a way to stifle the shaking of his hands and to hide the shallow breaths he was taking. Today, he was being taught a lesson. A lesson he didn’t  _ want  _ to learn, but he knew the consequences of saying no. He wouldn’t disobey Technoblade, he’d made that mistake before. It didn’t stop him from being horrified, but he battled away the feelings of hatred and fear and replaced them with a stoic cold heart that locked up his true feelings and threw away the key.

The room he found himself in was down a flight of stairs, separated from the rest of the palace and blindingly bright. End Rods were used to light the tiles that covered the floor, walls, and ceiling, highlighting every object in the room. The table that Dream was strapped to - his hands and wrists cuffed and tied with the hide of Endermen - was made from purpur and covered in a thin sheet. He was surrounded by End Rods that, instead of being used to create light, had been modified to carry an electric current through redstone wires that were hooked up to his chest. A local anaesthetic had already been applied to Dream’s bare stomach, his skin glistening, but he remained unconscious.

“Eret.” Technoblade’s voice didn’t echo in this room. The walls had been built to ensure that sound was absorbed, that anything that happened within the room  _ stayed  _ within the room. “I hope you’ve come prepared. I’d like to show you how the modification process works today.” 

Eret swallowed, nodding his head to hide the movement of this throat. “Of course.” He replied. “The final step, Dream will be strong enough to distract Herobrine, I will kill him.”

“Good.” Technoblade praised, offering a pair of shulker gloves to Eret and waiting for him to put them on. Eret did as expected, until the penny dropped.

“Am I--”

“Yes. I’ll instruct you, but  _ you  _ will be performing this task. I do like to think that the best way to learn how something works is to do it yourself. Gloves on, wake him up.”

Eret nodded, struggling to pull the second glove on now that he knew what was expected of him. He’d killed, he’d trained, he’d been put through the paces more times than he could remember, but  _ this  _ was a line that his mind didn’t want him to cross. He pushed his way through the mental block, the glove snapping around his wrist, and he smacked Dream across the face with the back of his hand as hard as he could.

Dream jerked against his restraints as he woke up, breathing heavily, arms and legs fighting against the hold they were in. As he blinked he struggled to piece together what was happening and where he was, but with Technoblade in his mind and looming over him physically he soon found his answer.

_ In trouble _ .

“Don’t move, if you move you’re only going to make this worse for yourself.”

Dream realised he couldn’t feel the lower half of his body and he tore his eyes away from Technoblade, looking down at himself. He was shirtless, restrained to a table in a blinding white room and Eret was standing over him with gloves on, examining a tray full of tools beside him. Each instrument looked sharper than the last and Dream swore he was going to be sick. His breathing sped up and his hands started to shake, his arms resuming their attempted escape. He had to be able to get away, he couldn’t let them do whatever they were planning.

“Eret, before beginning with the surgery take the cannula, we need to drain his system of blood. Mortal blood will do no good at all for him anymore.” He explained, watching as Eret lifted the cannula from the table beside him and looked to Dream. He was panicking, but he grabbed his right hand tightly and pinned it to the surface before pushing the cannula into his veins. Without any numbing agent used, Dream felt the action. He let out a cry of pain and squeezed his eyes shut, unable to fight it anymore. Whatever happened was going to happen, he couldn’t stop it.

He felt himself becoming light headed and wondered if they’d started removing his blood from his system, it was certainly what it  _ felt  _ like. His veins were being sucked dry, his heart pumping harder to get what little it could to his most vital organs. As his vision began to leave him he could somewhat make out a shadow moving against the bright lights above him, and the prick on his left hand might as well have been the bite of a fly with how little he felt it. A second cannula was inserted, and this time instead of  _ removing  _ his blood it was pumping him full of something else. It left him feeling weaker, even sicker than before, and as his skin began to turn deathly pale his eyes began to close. He felt his head loll to one side and let his breath come in much more slowly, much more laboured.

It didn’t hurt as much as he’d expected it to, but now he was too far gone to feel pain. 

“The Dragon’s breath will take a moment to work.” Technoblade explained to Eret, who had returned to where he originally stood at Dream’s side and began to find a tool to make an incision in his skin. “Until then, the Rods will restart his heart until his body can support itself once more. Don’t let him fall asleep, we need to know if he’s suffering at all.”

“But if he’s suffering-”

“If he’s suffering, he’s growing stronger.”

Eret smacked Dream again, though the connection of his hand with Dream’s face had a little less energy behind it this time, and as a shock of electricity surged through his body he cried out in pain. His mouth opened as wide as it could as he screamed, as if that would serve to help him at all, and sweat began to form on his forehead. His chest rose and fell quickly and his veins, now filling with Dragon’s breath, began to strain.  _ He was suffering _ .

Pushing the thoughts of what he was doing from his mind, Eret returned his focus to the man’s stomach and pressed the blade against the skin. He’d done this a thousand times before, blade to skin, but a scalpel felt so much more personal than a sword. He took in a breath, steeled himself against his emotions, and pressed down through the thin layer of skin to form a small cut. Barely any blood was left in Dream to bleed, and that at least made the process much cleaner.

“Good.” Technoblade praised. “We need to do two things. First, I want you to locate his stomach, repeat the process. Instead of Dragon’s breath, you need to use Shulker extract. It needs to replace the acid. The acid stops the chorus fruit from digesting properly, which means the pearls won’t grow.” He explained, wanting Eret not just to know what to do, but  _ why  _ he was doing it. It meant that he would follow the process perfectly when creating his own weapons in the future, it meant that their power and their hold over the three realms would continue to grow long after he was gone. Not that he had any intentions of doing  _ that  _ any time soon.

Technoblade watched the process carefully as Dream swam in and out of consciousness, his body refusing to remain awake and process the pain he was in, but too regularly hit by bolts of electricity to fall asleep. His body was becoming clammy and taking on a sickly shade of purple as the Dragon’s breath was becoming more and more compatible with him.

Dream’s stomach was sliced open cleanly by Eret, who placed the scalpel back down beside him and carefully pushed the skin back to have better access to his organs. Looking into his open chest was easy, he’d seen guts and gore plenty of times before as he’d found himself in tricky situations he needed to fight his way out of, but as he made a small incision in his stomach and brought a small tube to the gap to prepare to pump out the acid, he heard Dream screaming once more. His skin had been given the anaesthetic, but it clearly hadn’t worked well enough for him not to feel the sensation of his organs being sliced, removed, and replaced.

“Keep working, Eret.” Technoblade said sternly, and Eret tried his hardest to block out the blood curdling noise that came from Dream with every passing second. Instead, he focused on the way that his stomach squelched when his fingers came into contact with it, watching it pulsate and throb as the tube removed the acid from him. He ignored how the arms of the man thrashed helplessly and his cries became hoarse and weaker as the pain continued, the stream of curse words leaving his lips each time his prayer for this to end remained unanswered.

As the process was finished, Eret switched and began to fill the organ with Shulker extract. His liver would need to be replaced with the digestive organs of a Shulker to maintain the creation of the extract and save him from any future surgical procedures, and his gallbladder would be removed to implant an endersack without causing too many more complications. Not that he was  _ avoiding  _ complications anyway.

Another shock ran through Dream’s body and this time, he stopped reacting to it all. For a brief moment Eret wondered if he’d died, if this had been too much for him, but it seemed to be quite the opposite. Dream had fallen silent, but his breathing continued as he stared blankly up at the ceiling. Technoblade’s hand ran through his hair, brushing it back from his sweaty forehead and he acted as if he were trying to comfort the man.

“It’ll all be over soon.” He said, his voice so much softer than he’d ever heard it before.

Sewing up Dream’s stomach quickly, Eret moved on to focus on his liver first. As long as it was in there it would continue to produce bile and acid and would slow the rate at which Dream’s body adapted to the changes it was experiencing.

Working was now somewhat easier. With Dream no longer reacting to what was going on, Eret had no emotional turmoil to work through. Instead, he could methodically cut where Technoblade instructed him to and removed both the liver and the gallbladder in one quick maneuver. He placed both organs on the table beside him and he watched for a moment as they sagged under the weight of themselves, bile leaking onto the surface and liquid seeping out into small pools. Whatever the liquid was, a mixture of strange Human fluids, it was making a mess. 

When it came time to replace the organs he worked a lot slower, ensuring that this work was done cleanly and precisely. The endersack was implanted first, sitting beside his stomach where his gallbladder used to be. The sack that had been given to him already had the beginnings of a pearl growing inside, which  _ should  _ make it easier for his body to start producing the chemicals he would need to continue the process without any further intervention.

Dream was shocked twice more while the endersack was sewn into place, and although his body didn’t  _ strictly  _ need the shock to keep working, Technoblade did nothing to stop the End Rods, and didn’t remove the wires from his chest. It was a little bit too fun to see the momentary glimpses of pain on his face, especially now that he had become far more muted in the experience.

Adding the digestive system of the Shulker was a much more delicate process. Shulkers were small creatures, and the system that allowed them to function was almost microscopic. To allow Dream to function properly, he needed the support of multiple organs which were all carefully stitched into place, feeding into the single bile duct to his stomach to ensure that they would pump the Shulker extract directly into him. As this was closed, the wound was both sewn and taped up to prevent any leakage and complications, and his organs were carefully moved back into place by hand. Content with where everything ended up, Technoblade smiled. 

“See Dream, that wasn’t so hard now. You’ll be so much stronger for this.” Technoblade cooed, and Eret felt the shaking of his hands return as he began to sew the incision in his stomach shut. With each stitch he heard Technoblade purring comforts to Dream, as if the man was his child, but he knew that could never be the case. Technoblade may have only been his mentor, but he hardly struck him as the sort of man that  _ cared _ . And even less so the sort of man that had a son.

He felt himself swallow, watching a little of the bluish blood seeping from Dream’s body as he covered the stitches with tape, then a bandage. By the time it was all over, and Dream had fallen unconscious once more, Eret felt Technoblade’s eyes on him.

“Return him to his room, Eret.” He said, the care from his voice gone. “You performed… Adequately. You still have plenty to learn, but it’ll do.”

With that, he left, and Eret was alone once more. Dream’s breathing was slow and laboured, and something about his appearance reminded Eret of himself. He wasn’t quite sure what it was about him, but as he felt the thoughts in his head starting to click into place he quickly busied himself with taking Dream back to his room as instructed. He’d need time to heal over the next few days before they made their journey into the Overworld to launch their assault on the world, and so Eret picked him up carefully before teleporting through the palace and back to his bedroom, laying him down on his sheets and leaving him to rest. 

Eret knew he should have left immediately after that, but he couldn’t help the curiosity he felt. Why had this man been such a draw to Technoblade - even if Herobrine  _ was  _ in love with him, it didn’t make any sense as to why he’d change him like this. There had to be something more to him, something to  _ attach  _ some kind of importance to him. He was just a Human, there were plenty of Humans out there that could have been changed, so why  _ this one? _

He searched the room slowly, methodically going through each draw, looking at the clothes he’d arrived in and examining every stitch, the warp and the weft of the threads that wove together to make the cotton for his jeans, looking at the stains and the scratches on his shirt.  _ Something  _ made him important.

As he examined the room, desperate for something that would give him an answer, he found something that he hadn’t been looking for.

A portrait hung on the wall. He barely registered it when he first looked to it, eyes glancing over and ignoring it. But then his mind thought about what he’d seen and he looked back over his shoulder, this time studying the picture closely.

The painting was of him, though he couldn’t remember ever having it created. He wasn’t alone, though, and the man beside him was troublingly familiar. Swallowing and taking in a deep breath, Eret approached the painting slowly, his eyes focused on the small engraved letters at the bottom of the frame - a purpur plaque with gold having been used to highlight exactly what had been said. It had dulled over the years, and the lettering had been worn down by the repeated motion of a thumb running over it, but he could still see it well enough to read it.

_ ‘Herobrine & Eret, the Sons of the End.’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didn't read the last bit? no biggy! dream was experimented on the same way that eret & george were. he's been given the ability to create enderpearls & can therefore teleport like endermen can, eret spotted a portrait of himself & herobrine in dream's bedroom when he took him back to recover.
> 
> hope you guys don't have *too* bad whiplash after that adorable beginning & then that horrible ending... things are only going to get worse from here on out. good luck everyone!


	6. Memories & The Storm

Eret was dizzy as he sat on the floor of his bedroom.

He’d teleported away from Dream’s quarters in a hurry and the moment he knew where he was, the moment he knew he was safe and alone, his legs had buckled beneath him and he’d collapsed onto the endstone tiled floor below. Memories had come rushing back to him - memories of a childhood, of a brother,  _ a mother that loved them dearly _ \- and despite hundreds of thousands of years of conditioning, despite every experiment that had been performed on him and every wipe of his mind, he  _ cried _ . Tears didn’t come easily, and they caused a great deal of pain as they ran over the contours of his face, but they provided a relief he needed desperately in that moment.

His mind was scrambling to pick up every piece laid before him, every scrap that might lead him to place his memories in the right order and to assign voices to the people that he once knew. He wanted, no  _ needed _ , to understand the truth, but he didn’t know where to start.

It was easier to try to remember Herobrine than it was his mother, but Herobrine had been baked into legend. The lost king of the end - the  _ failure  _ to his father - no shortage of stories had been told of him and it was easy to put those pieces together. He could imagine, from the portrait of the two of them together, what he had been like as a warrior, how he would have looked when he smiled and laughed as brothers often did. Equally, he could imagine the way his face would have contorted with pain when he was punished, when their father struck them with all of his might for daring to stand up for themselves or for making a mistake. 

He wondered if Herobrine was the sort of brother that would have stood up for him, if perhaps the reason he himself had remained loyal to their father for so long was because he had seen the consequence of stepping out of line. Or perhaps it was the opposite, maybe Herobrine had abandoned him, maybe the story told by his father was a lie. What was he supposed to believe anymore? 

Swallowing back the pain, he tried to imagine where he was now. Somewhere in the Overworld, an enemy of their father, the lover of Dream: what had happened to him in the time he’d been gone? Had he been safe? Happy? Had he been filled with rage and regret, plotting his revenge? Maybe  _ he  _ would be Herobrine’s target in the Overworld. Did he know of the threat that was coming for him? Maybe he would come back, maybe he would stand at the side of his father again and punish  _ him _ .

His hands were shaking, his entire body was trembling as he tried to organise his thoughts. How was he supposed to know what his brother would do upon seeing him if he didn’t even  _ know  _ who he was himself? Eret knew now that he was Technoblade’s son, but his entire life he had been forced into his brother’s mould. Who was _ he _ outside of the torture? Who  _ was  _ Eret? Second best? Never quite comparing to his brother in their father’s eyes? 

Managing to pull himself to his feet, Eret changed for bed. He slipped out of his uniform and into his night robes, locking the door to his quarters. Not that it would do anything, if Technoblade wished to speak to him he would be entirely capable of appearing before him.

If his  _ father  _ wished to speak to him.

Shuddering at the mere thought of admitting to himself who Technoblade truly was, he slipped under his bedsheets and stared at the ceiling. As he tried to close his eyes and block out the world around him his mind ran away from him once more, clinging to the  _ much  _ harder to answer question.

Who was his mother?

He remembered, faintly, in the depths of his memories, a woman. A woman who was devastatingly kind, braver and stronger than she looked, who loved with all of her heart. It was impossible to place her voice or the features of her face, but Eret found that he didn’t need to in order to feel warmth spreading over him. 

He couldn’t remember how she died, and then it all came back to him at once, like a flash. He found himself sitting upright with his hands balling into fists around the silk sheets beneath him.

_ Herobrine stood in front of him, protecting him, he was a child and he’d made a mistake. Technoblade was furious, murder in his eyes, he’d reached out to kill them with his hands alone, intent on making it bloody and personal. But before he could touch either of them their mother was in front of them, sacrificing her own life to keep her children safe. She screamed in pain, body dropping to the ground lifelessly and Technoblade directing the anger at his children towards her. She had given him such pathetic offspring, she was just as much to blame. _

_ Herobrine had taken Eret’s hand, tried to pull him away and run to safety, to keep his younger brother from seeing his father continuing to assault their mother’s corpse, but the God wasn’t going to let either of them away so easily. _

_ Eret felt a hand grabbing him by his neck, heard Herobrine calling his name and, despite only being a few years older than him, demanding their father let him go. _

His breath came quickly and tears followed closely, the pain too much to bear. He couldn’t let the memory continue to play out before him, not when his mother’s screams were already echoing in his mind. His father had killed their mother, his brother had been  _ kind,  _ and Eret realised that he’d never been forced to fit into the mould of Herobrine. Both he and his brother had been forced to follow in their father’s footsteps, crafted into a perfect weapon for him to use. They’d never been children in his eyes so much as tools, and fury filled Eret to the core.

So much had been taken from him by that man, that  _ monster _ : there was so much he didn’t remember and so much he never  _ would  _ remember. Forgiveness would not come easily to him.

Calming himself, forcing himself to keep his emotions concealed so as not to alert his father to his newfound knowledge, he closed his eyes. He knew his sleep would be plagued with nightmares but he didn’t particularly care - if nightmares gave him answers, he would take them.

As he began to drift off, one thought lingered at the front of his mind.

Did he  _ ever  _ want to be able to forgive his father?

# # #

Dream was standing by Technoblade when Eret arrived in the halls of the palace. His father had taken a liking to his new Human in the days that had gone by - in particular, a liking to just how pliable he was. As Eret watched the old God play with a lock of his hair, the other man too  _ brainwashed  _ to even realise what was happening to him, he had to bite down on his lip hard to keep himself from reacting. It sickened him to his core and his father must have recognised the discomfort he caused, his hand moving from Dream’s hair and pressing his gloved fingers beneath his chin to make the man look up to him. 

“You’re such a  _ good mortal _ , Dream.” He said, his words slipping from his mouth like honey - though Eret could sense the poison behind them. With silence echoing in the room around them Eret walked towards his father, the sound of his boots against the floor filling the halls, and let one knee fold beneath him as he knelt on the ground.

Netherite armour wasn’t particularly comfortable, but the resources had been easy to steal from the Nether when he’d last paid a visit. The realm had changed so much since he’d previously been there, finally beginning to evolve just in time to have progress crushed and taken away, it was almost sad.

No, it  _ was  _ sad. The God of the Nether had been killed by his father - while he’d laid traps for the traitor that stood before them to prove that he was capable of working with them - and without a God the Nether would never be repopulated, the realm would simply die. Eret tried not to let himself think about the implications that would hold for the rest of the Universe, but  _ not  _ thinking was what left him in this place. Now that he had the freedom to think, to realise the consequences of his action (or his inaction) everything he did seemed to sit differently in his stomach.

“Technoblade.” He said, his voice deep and level. He couldn’t risk letting his father know what he knew - couldn’t risk letting him know that he was even  _ aware  _ of the blood they shared. 

“You’ve prepared well.” The God replied, though his voice hardly held the tone of  _ pride _ . “The armour will serve you well, it is highly unlikely the Human’s we will be facing in the Overworld will have discovered the secrets of the Nether, they will be feeble, small in numbers and weak. Even with Herobrine on their side they will not last long. This time, we  _ will  _ be victorious. Dream is the key to it all.”

That hurt, but Eret refused to give Technoblade the satisfaction of a response. As he looked up, he saw a twinkle in his eye as his arm moved to press against Dream’s shoulder and squeeze him in his armour. Dream, too, was dressed head to toe in Netherite, but despite the protection he’d been given he looked vulnerable. His eyes were vacant and his stare was dead ahead. Everything he did was controlled by Technoblade now, and if he wasn’t being controlled he barely seemed to exist. The only thing that appeared to leak through was the hints of sadness of it all, the tiniest quiver of his lip or the tears that filled his eyes. Dream was still in there, just enough that as he fought against Herobrine he would break him completely.

“Of course, he will seal our victory.” Eret replied, offering Technoblade a smile. “I’ll ensure Herobrine never sees the light of day again. The Overworld will be mine.” 

The tone of the palace shifted as Technoblade got to his feet, walking away from Dream and pacing past Eret to look out of the grand windows that overlooked the island. The place was utterly deserted, the last of the ships had long since left, and all they had been waiting for to begin their invasion was Dream’s recovery from surgery. Content with the progress he’d made, he turned around to his two subjects and smiled as he looked over them. His son and his experiment, they  _ would  _ take down Illumina, Herobrine, and the Overworld. Complete control of the three realms would be theirs, and it would only require a little more effort to rid himself of the men that stood before him. Control would be  _ his  _ and  _ his  _ alone, he had no need for people by his side.

For now, he had to keep up appearances, and so held out a hand in front of him. “Dream, come take my hand. Don’t be afraid.” He purred, his smile growing as Dream approached him with his own arm outstretched. The tips of his fingers daintily pressed against Technoblade’s gloves and as he made contact, he felt the God close his hands around him like a carnivorous plant closing around its prey. Giving a tight squeeze, Technoblade teleported away with Dream in tow and Eret waited for just a moment before he followed. 

His arrival on the main island of the End was signalled by a cacophony of noise. Since he had last been here more soldiers had mobilised, and as he looked around he could see thousands of Endermen standing ready to fight, ready to  _ die  _ for their cause. The prophecy would be fulfilled once more, the three realms would be at war: somehow, Eret didn’t think it would end any differently than it had done before. Each of these creatures would lay down their lives and for what - a game between Gods? He walked through the crowds and felt eyes on him, the Endermen watching him like they believed he would lead them to victory, that this war was something that would give  _ them  _ something. Their faith in him and his father was driving them blindly towards the end of their existence. The more Eret thought, the worse he felt about his inability to stop it from happening, the more his stomach twisted that this had happened time and time again and he’d been too brainwashed to do anything about it - he was just as guilty as his father for participating in such cruel acts. He kept his head low, teeth gritted as he heard the familiar flapping of Dragon’s wings. Confirmation that the Ghast tears Dream had collected had worked, and confirmation that Technoblade had once again mutilated his own subjects for the sake of war. 

He pushed through the Endermen to make his way to the side of Dream and Technoblade, and the tone had shifted drastically. Dream stood stoic and determined, life had returned to his eyes and he was focused on the task at hand. Invasion, war,  _ victory _ . Eret stood beside Dream and easily slotted back into the role he had always played, his back straightening and his arms stiff at his side as Technoblade walked them through the initial stages of attack one last time. They’d both heard it plenty before, when they hadn’t been busy testing Dream’s strength to ensure the transformation had worked correctly, and offered curt nods with each instruction given. Every finished sentence was a moment closer to the point of no return. 

Too many moving parts were now in motion - there was no turning back.

# # #

A portal in the End to the Overworld was fiction to mortals, but to a God like Technoblade its existence took nothing more than the snap of his fingers. Unlike the portal frames found in Strongholds littered across the Overworld, this portal had no need for Eyes of Ender to open. The void surrounded them, here it was more like a liquid than a tear, and the portal would take them to an already activated portal in the Overworld. It made for convenient travel for the Gods, and when the relationship with the Gods and their realms had been different it had been used for good. 

Now the portal to the Overworld was surrounded by armies, by ships, by Gods and in the distance, a Dragon and her rider. Feelings had been pushed aside for now, and Eret was grossly aware of his father’s eyes staring daggers into his back as he stood with several dozen Endermen behind him. They would move on his command, it would be  _ him  _ that started this war, even though he knew damn well that if he didn’t someone else would do in his place. 

“You’ll have a matter of minutes when you reach the other side to clear a path for the ships, we’ll be behind you before you know it. No danger will come to you in the few minutes you’re alone.”

“I’m perfectly capable of watching my own back, Technoblade.” Eret said, taking in a deep breath and letting his shoulders fall. He was too touchy, the God would notice that something was wrong if he kept this up, he just had to hope that the prospect of invading another realm and all out war would be enough to distract him.

Endstone crunched beneath his boots as Eret walked to the edge of the portal, looking back over his shoulder to his father. 

“I’ll see you on the other side.” He said, his face expressionless, and without looking back he took a step forwards and his body fell through the portal, a hundred Endermen following him without a word. 

The first thing that Eret noticed about the Overworld was how cold it was. He knew that time passed in the same way between the realms, and that while the End was a world unto itself the Overworld was burdened with seasons and weather, it still took him aback by just  _ how  _ cold it was. The stone brick steps he landed on in the Stronghold were almost frozen to the touch, a chill running down his spine as the familiar sound of Endermen vworping behind him filled the small portal room. Small rodent-like creatures seemed to flee at their arrival, and Eret walked down towards the dark corridors ahead. He looked both ways, as if checking for any stray Humans, before turning back to the ever growing number of Endermen and taking in a breath.

It was his order to be given, he was the only one that was responsible for the choice he made now.

“Well… Don’t just look at me.” He said, his voice wavering a little from the monotone delivery he had attempted to give. “You know your orders, soldiers. We need a path to the surface, clear a route for the ships to traverse safely.”

Without a moment of hesitation on their part the Endermen came to life. They moved quickly, teleporting to where they needed to go and taking material from the ceiling with them. Stone bricks were moved to uncover layers of andesite, granite and diorite. The creatures were working together well to make their way to the surface, and while there was no telling where the Stronghold was exactly they had made plenty of progress. Eret watched them methodically tear the environment to pieces, the noises they made soon beginning to echo as the world around him was hollowed out. 

Much like Technoblade had promised, there was no danger. And, keeping to his other promise, the God appeared in the Overworld not too long after the Endermen had broken through to the surface.

Sand had fallen, but Eret had dealt with it swiftly, sending the material into piles in the corners of the room: there was no real reason to be  _ neat  _ when starting a war. With the God now at his side, the two of them looked up at the path that the Endermen had created and watched as they continued to widen the route to the surface. From such depths and with the surface broken above, it was almost quiet: sunlight began to streak down into the portal room as more and more holes opened up above them. As the last layers of stone and sandstone were removed by the Endermen, gravity was doing the work for them, and Technoblade chuckled quietly. His hands were behind his back, boots clicking as his heels hit the ground with each step he took.

“It never gets old.” He said fondly. “Though I won’t miss it. This realm will be yours before the day is out, the Human’s won’t be able to put up any real fight.”

Eret found himself unsettled at the phrasing, filled with disbelief, and instead of replying he teleported away. He would help his soldiers remove the last of the obstructing material, and would let Technoblade reminisce over past wars alone. He didn’t understand the appeal, how one could be so sentimental towards such bloodshed and tyranny?

But Technoblade had no problem with such thoughts. In a matter of minutes Dream would lead the remaining army into the Overworld and their invasion would begin. It felt somewhat anticlimactic, after all this time, to be standing  _ bored  _ by a portal in a Stronghold, but he had one last task to complete.

Electing to take his netherite sword from his side, Technoblade positioned himself over the portal frame and laughed quietly before he swung his weapon down with ease. Despite his own blas è nature towards the action, the portal frame was struck with all the force of a God and the delicate structure shattered like glass. For a moment, nothing happened. The Universe continued unperturbed, unaware of the damage that had been done. And then there was a gentle hum, deceptively quiet, worryingly peaceful, and the corners of the tear that had once been held in a safe and stable position began to waver. A ripple was sent through the portal, the once still surface beginning to move and beginning to stretch. Sand from the corners of the room was pulled in and destroyed, and as the portal began to slowly increase in size the Stronghold began to feel the strain. It would take days for the fracture in the Overworld to grow large enough to consume everything it touched, but days were all the time that was needed.

Technoblade walked safely through the void that had been created - no longer a bridge between worlds but the exit of a one way trip - and he watched and waited. Growth of the tear was slow and steady and then, all at once, it jumped. A thunderous sound erupted as the void damn near doubled in size, the ground beneath Technoblade’s feet trembling and the stone crumbling as the first ship appeared. The purpur brick stuck out like a sore thumb against the dull grey of the underground, and as the ship emerged from the portal it began to fully experience the effects of the different realm. It reoriented, the effects of gravity starting to be felt properly, and suddenly surrounded by a much thicker atmosphere it began to move with more resistance, progress slow as other ships began to follow. 

The route that had been cleared out by the Endermen was more than wide enough for the ships to begin to ascend - heading towards the skies with hundreds of Endermen aboard each ship. Above them, the world was still calm and quiet, nothing had been suspected yet. They were too far away from civilization for their actions to be noticed, but before long the peace would be replaced with death and destruction: a wasteland would lay in their wake. 

As the last of the ships arrived in the Overworld and began their slow journey toward the surface, Technoblade waited for his final creation.

With that thought the void expanded quickly one last time before returning to its initial pace, and the remains of the portal room were suddenly filled with a purple and black beast, scales covering the back of the Dragon, her purple eyes glowing as she curiously examined the world around her. As her wings flapped, pushing herself upwards towards the surface, Dream clung to the kite shaped plates that ran down her back. Being back in the Overworld felt so relieving, wind running through his hair and the chill of the winter air setting into his bones. As the Dragon flew high into the sky he had a wide view of the entire realm. The Stronghold they’d arrived in had been near an ocean, water stretching as far as the eye could see and meeting the sky at the horizon, and in the other direction was a large mountain range. The army below was reorganising and finding their formation, and as ships fell into place the Dragon nosedived towards the ground.

Technoblade appeared at the side of Eret, who’d teleported himself onto the bow of a ship, and the Dragon swooped in to circle around them. The three of them - two Gods and a puppet with Godlike powers - approaching the final moment. Soon, the prophecy would be fulfilled once more. The stars would align, the war would rage and the Overworld would die. Life would cease to be like it had time and time again, but this time Technoblade had no intentions of letting Illumina live. 

The end was here, but it had only just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, sorry for that short break i didn't really mention. i've just started back at work & i'm so exhausted all the time because the post-surgery insomnia hasn't left me yet. i also had hella writers block so yeah, this chapter was a bitch to write! 
> 
> that said, i'm probably going to update less frequently now (though historically whenever i say that i go & post daily for a week xD). things are really going to start heating up. remember folks, /this is the end/.


	7. The First Shots & A Hasty Retreat

It had almost been three weeks since Dream had last been seen, and there was no word in any known language that could even begin to describe the impact this had on George. He’d gone through every stage of grief at least twice, both fearing and assuming the worst had happened. The moment he had been well enough to return to his previous behaviour - pushing himself to his limits and far,  _ far  _ beyond - he did. There was nothing his friends could say or do to stop him, and there was only so long they could keep trying for. Eventually, when they realised that their words were falling on deaf ears, they stopped. Their own worries for Dream became the focus of their days, and despite continuing to train the villagers and the new arrivals, despite venturing into the Nether to find more of the strange material that had been given to them, they never seemed to be able to forget about him. 

The atmosphere had shifted drastically over the last few days. Illumina and George both seemed to sense that something was coming and that had everyone more alert, and equally more on edge, with every action that they took. 

Skeppy and Bad were travelling into the Nether to find some more of the strange material -  _ Nethore  _ as the blacksmith had coined - to make stronger weapons. When mixed with gold it did exactly what the Pigmen had promised, provided an incredibly tough alloy, and it was being used to coat diamond armour to make it even stronger. Now that they had a full set they were trying to make tools of a similar strength before time ran out. And, despite knowing how hard their task was, the pair were both happy to have some time alone, together. Being in the Nether almost felt safer than the Overworld now and as the two stepped through into the now familiar territory, they let their guard down.

The portal in the Nether now stood outside a towering wall that stretched as far as the eye could see - the Pigmen ready to defend their realm if the battle in the Overworld was a lost cause - and the pair walked through the blackstone bastion. With their alliance already formed, the Pigmen were usually happy to let them go by, but they always wore a little bit of gold armour to prove their trustworthiness to their allies and would often give them a few more gold ingots. It kept everyone happy, and added to the ever growing number of gold blocks kept in the centre of the bastion itself. No one in the Overworld had quite discovered  _ why  _ the Pigmen were so protective over gold all of a sudden, but it was an easy commodity to trade.

Bad and Skeppy walked hand in hand through the structure, ignoring the way their palms sweat in the intense heat that surrounded them, lost in a moment of bliss as they enjoyed each other’s company. Both were still incredibly affectionate, but they knew now how they felt about each other and with the prospect of war on the horizon it was more important that they focused on surviving another day than showering each other with affections. If they lived through this, they’d have a lifetime together. Still, it didn’t stop Skeppy from pressing an occasional kiss to Bad’s cheek, but the blushing had stopped now. Bad was just  _ happy  _ to be loved. As they continued to walk, watching the Pigmen preparing weapons for the fight as they passed by, they heard an unfamiliar noise coming from the portal.

The sound of the portal being activated  _ wasn’t  _ unfamiliar, the Pigmen came and went from the Overworld often now, usually having to speak with George or Illumina to discuss their plans - it was the conversation that was unfamiliar.

“I really don’t think we should be here, Tommy.”

“ _ Relax,  _ Tubbo, I see people come through here all the time, we’re fine!”

Skeppy and Bad both turned to look over their shoulders, stopping in their tracks when they saw two boys without any armour or weapons emerging from the portal. They looked young, not the youngest of people that were trying to sneak their way into the front lines of war, but too young to be in a place like this alone and defenseless. Their arrival had also caught the attention of the Pigmen, who were much  _ less  _ pleased with the presence even as the taller boy seemed to smile at them, each word oozing with charisma. 

“Hello, we’re not interrupting are we? We thought it’d be fun just to explore a little bit.”

The boy’s voice was far too chipper for the situation he was in, oblivious to the danger around them, and Bad was quick to let go of Skeppy’s hand and walk towards the two young boys.

“Tommy, there’s oth--”

“What are you kids doing here?” Bad asked, making a show of his gold armour as he stood between the two and the Pigmen. They seemed agitated by their presence, and he wasn’t going to risk them coming to any harm. 

“We’re not  _ kids _ , thank you. And we just came to explore a bit, we’re not going to go running after a Wither Skeleton if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” Skeppy’s voice came from behind, his tone more serious than Bad was used to hearing. “The Nether isn’t safe for anyone that’s unarmed, and right now it’s even  _ less  _ safe. You might not be children but you’re still  _ young _ , you shouldn’t be in a place like this and you shouldn’t be anywhere near a war. Stay safe, go back home.”

As Skeppy scolded them, Bad watched as their faces changed. The shorter man looked genuinely remorseful for being there, but the other wasn’t taking Skeppy’s words seriously and clearly didn’t plan on giving up just yet. Sighing, Bad tried to diffuse the tension.

“What’re your names?”

“I’m Tommy, this is my friend Tubbo, now you have our names can we be on our way?”

Bad looked at Skeppy, as if expecting him to say something, but the younger’s ever expressive eyebrows silently conveyed that the final decision rested with Bad.

“You can stay with us, you’ve not got anything to look after yourselves with, if you  _ really  _ want to see at least you’ll be safe.”

“Thank you.” Tubbo said with an honest smile, feeling Skeppy’s rucksack being pushed against his chest. 

“If we’re babysitting, the least you can do is carry my stuff.” He said, and while he was clearly  _ annoyed  _ by the interruption of his quiet day in the Nether with Bad, Bad could tell that his foul nature would be short lived.

“You’re not babysitting  _ anyone _ , I’m pretty sure you have to be taller than the person you’re babysitting, so you certainly aren’t babysitting me.”

Skeppy began to walk away with Tommy on his trail, the two seemed to fall into a back-and-forth immediately, like they’d met their match for snarky comments and quick retorts. Bad, on the other hand, just took Skeppy’s bag from Tubbo and offered him a smile. 

“Come on, I’ll show you how we search for the Nethore if you’d like.”

# # #

Illumina and George were quietly working away in the Overworld when they felt it. Making potions silently in the back room of the church, they stopped at exactly the same moment, sensing that something new was here. While George was unable to pinpoint what it was beyond a feeling, Illumina was much more intune to the strange shift in his brain and was quick to leave the room, calling for a messenger to send word to the Illagers and to the Pigmen. 

When he returned a few moments later, George was already gathering full potion bottles by the dozen: holding their necks between his fingers as he tucked them into a satchel. Illumina didn’t try to hide the worry that was chiseled into his features.

“This is it?” George said quietly, paying little attention to the actions that Illumina was taking. “They’re here? Dream and Technoblade are here?”

“Not yet.” Illumina replied. “Someone else, the beginnings of an army… We have to hurry.”

George opened his mouth to ask  _ who  _ else in particular he could feel, but had no chance to do such a thing as the old God left in a hurry. George knew that secrets were still being kept from him. He’d spent too much time asking over and over again  _ why  _ he couldn’t know these things yet, but he’d never been given a straight answer. He assumed now, with the arrival of this new being, that he’d at least gain  _ some  _ understanding, even if it wasn’t quite in the manner he’d expected.

As he flipped over the leather hood of the satchel and started to make his way out of the small room he stopped, feeling a surge of pain in his head. It felt like a migraine, worse than a migraine, and as one hand moved to his temple and pressed against his skull the other reached to grab the wooden doorframe, steadying himself as he closed his eyes and worked through the pain.

_ Technoblade was here _ .

George took a few deep breaths to calm himself before running quickly through the church. With the bag of potions at his side, glass bottles clinking against each other as he ran, he squeezed through the narrow streets and ran to the blacksmith. Everywhere was loud, bustling with people trying to make their way out of the village and into the fields. The message that the time to prepare was over spreading fast, and George had to push through the crowds just to make it to the building. As people ran the opposite way, George opened the door and found himself hit with a wave of heat. The furnaces were being extinguished, but embers still smoldered in place and the warmth hadn’t dissipated just yet.

“Come on then, Lost One.” The blacksmith said, an uneasy smile on his face the moment he saw George. “Let’s get you suited up.”

# # # 

Sapnap and a6d were in charge of leading the evacuations. Children, and those that would be caring for them, needed to get as far away from the village as possible. While they would do everything in their power to keep the fighting away from the small settlement there was no way they could predict what would happen: this was the safest option.

The children had grown somewhat attached to Sapnap over the last few weeks, and when he’d been able to relax for a time he’d gone back to keep them all company and remind them that things would be okay, but that made this so much harder. The little girl that had shown so much interest in the redstone of his arm was struggling to say goodbye even as Sapnap was speaking to the adults that would be leaving with the children. Her hand held his prosthetic one tightly, soft sobs leaving her lips that Sapnap did everything in his power to ignore. He had to ignore her, however much it shattered his heart, but if he didn’t do this  _ now  _ then all of the children would be in danger. The only thing that made the situation easier was the fact that the dog that Dream had originally befriended had become a good friend to the children, and was sitting beside the little girl, her other hand petting it comfortingly.

“There’s boats on the shore, if you take them and head West you’ll be about a day or so from more land.” Sapnap instructed. “It’s just an island, but it might be far away enough to keep you safe. When it’s safe for you all to come back we’ll send someone for you.”   
  


He chose his words carefully.  _ When _ , not  _ if _ . As the woman he spoke to nodded, turning and walking away from him to spread the message to others, he felt a tug on his arm and turned to look down, biting on his bottom lip softly as he crouched to the girl’s level.

“Hey, Lucy, you’re alright aren’t you? You’re gonna be such a brave big girl for your old Uncle Sapnap, okay?”

The girl in question sniffled, squeezing her eyes shut as more tears fell, and Sapnap moved to wrap his arms tightly around her. 

“I  _ know  _ you can be brave, you’ve just got to prove it to me. Then, when this is all over, I’ll show you how to tinker with my arm. We can put it on backwards if you want, see if that makes it act all silly.”

Despite the tension in the moment he felt a breath of air against his chest, the smallest laugh imaginable coming from Lucy, and he let himself smile just a little bit. Things  _ would  _ be okay. 

“Will you keep my mummy and daddy safe too, Sapnap?” She asked, pulling back and wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper, and Sapnap gave her the most confident smile he could in that moment.

“Of course I can. Here, take this.” He said, reaching into his jacket pocket and producing a small device. “This is the communicator my friends and I used to use to chat with each other when we went on big adventures, you take this with you and I’ll let you know when it’s safe for you to come home, and I’ll make sure your parents can say hi to you as well, okay?”

Lucy nodded, taking the communicator and holding it tightly with both hands, as if letting go would mean she lost everything. At that moment Sapnap heard his name called, and looking over his shoulder he could see a6d beckoning him over. He took one last look at Lucy, squeezing her shoulder tightly with his hand.

“I’ll see you again soon,  _ be brave _ .”

Standing up to leave he lifted up one leg, but the second wouldn’t move. He looked back down and saw Lucy clinging on tightly, giving him one final hug before he left. His prosthetic hand rested on her head, fingers gently combing through her hair, giving her the time she needed to say goodbye before she heard her name being called by one of the men taking the children away. The dog beside her barked, getting Lucy’s attention as he pressed his nose against her side to try and encourage her to leave. After a moment more she let go, gently petting the dog’s snout and waving a goodbye to Sapnap with tears still in her eyes. Sapnap returned the gesture, watching as Lucy walked away and glanced over her shoulder just to make sure he was still there, the dog walking after her slowly.  _ He’d be safer with the children _ , Sapnap thought, and watched them all go.

The moment he could, Sapnap made his way to his friend and the kindness that he’d put on display for the girl vanished. Now wasn’t the time to be kind, now was the time to fight.

“The Illagers should be here by sundown, so long as we can hold the worst of it off until then we’ll have reinforcements coming in. The Pigmen are amassing in the Nether, they’ll all come across together and take the Endermen by surprise.”

“So what you’re saying is,  _ we’re alone _ .” Sapnap interrupted, and a6d paused. There was no other way to put it.

“For the first few hours,  _ yes _ , but they’re not here yet, we still have--”

“What’s going on?” 

George came skidding to a halt, his boots slipping against the mud beneath his feet as he joined his friends. Illumina hadn’t returned since he’d gone his own way a short while ago, and George could only assume that he was somewhere within the large crowd of people currently dressing themselves in the best armour they could come up with and sharing the best weapons they had. Stone swords and axes wouldn’t do much, but they had to hope that numbers would be on their side. Perhaps with armour, with their totems of undying, with their shields and their alliances with the Illagers and Pigmen they stood a chance.

And they had two  _ Gods  _ on their side, they had so much more than just a chance.

Still, the fate of the Overworld now lay squarely on their shoulders, and that kind of pressure didn’t make anything easier at all.

“Where’re Bad and Skeppy?” George followed up when his first question wasn’t immediately answered.

“They went into the Nether.” a6d replied.

“If they’re still there they’re probably helping the Pigmen with their final preparations. We’ll find them later.” Sapnap said. If things weren’t quite so tense he might’ve made a comment as to how George looked in his new armour, perhaps he’d have teased him about the way that the dark circles stood out beneath his eyes all the more. 

There was a tension in the air when Sapnap didn’t say anything, but it soon vanished as another man joined their conversation.

“Herobrine.” Illumina said, George’s body language shifting dramatically as he was addressed differently. “I need you to scout ahead for me, can you--”

Illumina stopped mid sentence, looking back over his shoulder. George’s gaze followed the same path as Illumina’s, and the two men opposite them watched on curiously,  _ fearfully _ , as tiny specks appeared on the horizon. 

“That’s--”

“We have to go.” Illumina commanded, looking back to Sapnap and a6d. “Best of luck, Hero, with me.”

Illumina vanished, George disappearing a moment later, and the two Humans were left standing, staring at each other in terror. Before now it had been easy enough to pretend that this wasn’t real, but as the speck on the horizon began to grow it was becoming clearer and clearer with each passing moment that there was no more time left to pretend.

“This is it, huh?  _ This is the end? _ ”

“Maybe for you.” Sapnap replied, trying to keep the tone light. “But I’m not dying today.”

The last of the children had been evacuated, Illumina and George had gone to rally their troops and organise a defensive formation, all that was left to do was to join the ragtag army and hope that their weeks of training would be enough to take down a God and his army.

There was no going back now. 

# # #

The sky grew dark despite the fact that the sun was still high above the horizon, and while George and Illumina walked side by side to lead their soldiers to war their eyes didn’t move from where the sky met the land. They’d walked out into the plains, where it would be impossible to be ambushed and where they stood the best chance of fighting. With forests to their left and mountains to their right, it would be hard for the End to surround them, although when fighting an enemy that could teleport it was impossible to know what their strategy would be.

The silence between George and Illumina was tense, with words left unsaid hanging thick in their air, but there was no longer any time to discuss. The sun was being hidden by the advancing mass of Endermen, the monsters seeming to teleport as a block towards the army of the Overworld and darkness falling swiftly over the land. The physical mass that they became marched onward, growing with every passing second, shielding their ships from view as they came closer and closer.

_ “HALT!”  _ Illumina called, holding a hand out behind him as he and George ceased walking. As the people behind them stumbled to a stop, Illumina looked to George.

“We have to protect this world, Herobrine. Whatever it takes.”

_ There it was - Illumina’s subtle reminder that if Dream was their enemy, he would have to kill him _ . George nodded, his hand moving to the hilt of his diamond sword as he pulled down the visor of his helmet.

_ “Whatever it takes _ .” He agreed. Illumina reached for his own sword and the hundreds and thousands of people that stood behind them followed suit. The sounds of stone axes, swords and iron blades filled the air around them, slow but heavy breathing the only sound that came from the army during the time it took for the Endermen to close the gap further.

Before long the deafening silence was replaced with the caterwaul of a thousand Endermen vworping towards them - now close enough to be heard - and the people within the army changed their stance as George and Illumina moved. They had one foot behind the other, shifting their weight and preparing to swing, hands tightening around their weapons as they waited impatiently for the first blow.

Who would make the first move? Who would be the first to fall?

The world was still around them. There was no wind, no sound of trees rustling, no crunching of feet in the snow, just the beating of people’s hearts in their ears as Endermen landed and stopped a few feet before them. The two armies were now in position, eyes locked with each other dangerously, but the Endermen didn’t advance yet. They were  _ waiting _ . 

No first strike came, no blade was swung and no attack was made. Instead, the Endermen parted a little way before George and Illumina, and they were greeted with the presence of two men, one of which George had never laid eyes on before.

“Technoblade.” Illumina said, his voice  _ far  _ more level than George had expected it to be. He turned to look at the man, confused as to why he was being so civil to someone so cruel - someone that had  _ taken  _ so much from him time and time again. “Do you never tire of our meetings?”

“No.” The God replied, a wide, toothy grin spreading on his face as he laughed a little. After maintaining an intimidating eye contact with Illumina he turned to face George, the smile turning sickly as he watched the younger God’s face contort with anger.

“Come home,  _ Herobrine _ . This is your final chance. Stand with me,  _ your father _ , or die.”

“I can’t.” George replied coldly, his voice like steel. “This is my home, I won’t let you destroy it.”

“Then I’ll have to destroy you.” 

As Technoblade vanished to return to his vantage point, the man that had stood at his side silently acted. He raised his own sword, his weapons and his armour entirely crafted from Netherite, and his eyes glowing behind the visor of his helmet. George wanted to ask questions, but now wasn’t the time to speak. As the man cried out the Endermen moved, and the growing tension between the two sides snapped.

The Endermen were the first to attack under the command of the unknown man, and the quiet that had fallen was torn apart as vworps, screams and cries filled the air. Shields were battered against, blades pierced skin, Illumina vanished to seek out Technoblade, and George was left alone. For a moment he was face to face with the stranger, neither making a move to attack the other even as war broke out around them, until the stranger too vanished. 

Now all George had were his thoughts, and he only had one thought: Dream. The worst had to be assumed - that he was here somewhere, that Technoblade had done something to him - and George had to find him. 

# # #

Sapnap had lost sight of a6d the moment the battle had begun. Surrounded by dozens of mediocrely trained soldiers wasn’t where he wanted to be, save for his head being taken off by a poorly aimed sword or a careless swing of an axe. Sapnap had quickly made his way to the edge of the battlefield. He was one of the lucky ones, iron armour and sword, though he knew that this was simply because they knew he  _ could  _ fight. Keeping him alive was  _ useful _ , and so the armour that would help do that was given to him.

It first came in handy when Sapnap was cornered by two Endermen and didn’t have a moment to reach out for his shield. He felt an impact against his stomach that sent him stumbling, his armour keeping him from any real damage as he swung his sword pathetically towards the legs of one Enderman. It cut, but didn’t remove the limb cleanly and the Enderman was able to teleport away a short distance. It  _ did  _ give him a moment to steady himself on his feet and take a more powerful swing towards the second creature. As he hit it with one hand holding his sword he positioned his shield with the other, and not a moment too soon as he heard a crash hit against it. Instead of swinging, he lunged with his sword and thrust the blade tip-first into the stomach of one Enderman, one leg coming up behind him to kick the other backwards. It didn’t work, but it teleported to avoid the kick and that too meant it couldn’t attack him for a moment. All around he could hear the screams of people in pain, people that knew just enough about how to fight but not enough to fight against an army of this kind or size.

Even when the Illagers and the Pigmen could provide support, Sapnap very quickly realised just how one-sided this whole fight was going to be. It didn’t stop him from swinging his sword violently, slashing through the face of the second Enderman and watching as blood gushed from the slit across its eyes. He felt a little proud of that, using his sword to push the body backwards as another creature caught his attention and approached him hurriedly, screaming at him as it moved.

Sapnap tried not to think of how many monsters there were compared to them, focusing on fighting one at a time. It was like they were visiting the End, they needed the pearls to open a portal. Dream was there, so were Bad and George, and they were laughing and they were  _ happy _ .  _ Everyone  _ was happy. 

Slipping a little on the mud beneath his feet, Sapnap was reminded painfully that it  _ wasn’t  _ the case.

As he regained his balance he struck upwards with, and while he fought with the Endermen he caught sight of something in the darkened sky. In the distance, what looked to be  _ ships _ , and a little closer… Moving  _ much  _ faster… 

_ No. _

The Dragon flapped her wings, circling the battlefield with a man on her back dictating the direction she flew, pointing down to the ground and commanding her to attack the hundreds of people below. Sapnap’s heart stopped, he stopped fighting the Endermen and ran, his best chance would be to flee and to get as many people as possible to follow them. They  _ couldn’t  _ do this. They needed support from the Pigmen and the Illagers if they were to have even a fleeting chance against this army.

As Sapnap’s boots hit the ground, the mud and snowmelt mixing into a slippery mess that it was hard to progress through, he felt the impact of the Dragon’s fireball. The Earth beneath his feet shook and Sapnap found himself stumbling, looking back over his shoulder just in time to see the familiar purple shimmering beginning to spread out in a thick cloud and send people running. But the battleground was densely populated, and not everyone fighting  _ knew  _ what was happening. People were trying to flee, people were stuck, he could hear the sounds of people dying and wondered just how many of them would make it out alive. 

He’d seen death before, he’d heard death before, Sapnap was no  _ stranger  _ to death, but death in this way - so brutal, so  _ permanent _ , so  _ pointless:  _ it terrified him. As he watched on, eyes focused on the dark scene before him, he felt his hands turning cold and clammy and his stomach tightening as nausea hit him. He’d seen death, but he’d never experienced war like this and fear was clinging to him tightly. It wrapped around his legs and held his body firmly in place. Breathing became difficult, his chest rising and falling quickly as he fought to keep himself composed, but he dropped his sword from his hand as he felt himself growing more and more distant. Everything he was looking at,  _ he  _ wasn’t experiencing it. It was just a dream, a horrible,  _ horrible  _ dream, he couldn’t be living in something like this. Everything in the past few months was a nightmare, and the feeling hit him all at once. It was like he’d been winded, punched so hard in the stomach, and yet there was no physical pain to accompany the sensation. He blinked, he couldn’t focus, his vision seemed to be blurring at the corners and for a moment he wondered if he was going to collapse. 

A second fireball hurtled towards the ground, in a similar location to the first, and Sapnap fell forwards. He landed with a thud, covered in mud, body likely already littered with bruises, and watched as bodies flew above the crowds from the impact alone. The fall had been enough to bring him back to the present, but the aching in his stomach hadn’t gone away. At least for now he could act again.

“We need to retreat!” He yelled as loudly as he could, gathering the attention of those closest to him. “Retreat, back to the village, we can’t do this alone! This is suicide!”

Those that heard him didn’t question him - there was nothing  _ to  _ question - and as he scrambled to his feet and reached for his weapon he found that more and more people were starting to have the same idea. It was a slow trickle at first, but before long that had turned into dozens, and that became hundreds of people running. Some stood their ground - and Sapnap couldn’t tell if it was due to a valiant effort to distract and protect those escaping, or out of sheer stupidity - but Ilumina appeared into their field of view once again and barked a similar command.

“Return to the village.” He cried, and those that were yet to leave did as ordered while he turned to face the army himself. The tricks that he had shown George what felt like eons again came in handy - his hand outstretched and his mind focused on the world around him, feeling the whispers of the Overworld running through his physical form as a crack began to open up in the ground.

The initial sound was a snap as the rock split at his command, and it boomed and echoed in the mountains. High above, snow was dislodged with the force of the shockwave that moved through the air, small avalanches triggering and shifting tonnes of debris further down the slopes. It was as if the world itself was groaning as it moved, the gap widening painstakingly slowly as Illumina struggled. His powers had been hidden to keep  _ him  _ hidden from Technoblade and using them after such an extended period of time left him exhausted, overworked, and breathless. A wide pit had formed before them, putting space between the retreating Human’s and the army of the End.

“Illumina,  _ go _ .” 

George was beside him now, and it was his turn to order him around. “They need you, I’ll hold the Endermen off.”

Perhaps there should have been a longer conversation between the pair in that moment, but there was no time and it didn’t happen. Illumina used the last of his strength to teleport across the wide crevasse he’d created, before running with the people as George took in a deep breath. He had one shot at this, one chance to protect every single person against the Endermen: if he couldn’t buy them just this little bit of time, then the war was over as soon as it had begun.

It took everything in him, his body slowly reaching out to communicate with the world around him. He felt the mud on the soles of his boots pulling him down, rooting him to the Overworld as the wind in the air brushed over his skin. He felt a disconnect between his physical form and his spirit, and whispered a desperate plea.

_ Water _ .

He felt his energy sap from him in a moment: draining his body of strength and rendering him unable to move, but when he looked ahead of himself he found he didn’t need to.

The crevasse was filled with water, a wide but shallow lake between the Endermen and his friends, an obstacle that would be easily passed with a detour or a strategic use of their ships, but a promise of time.

George smiled just a little to himself, and when the world went dark and his body crumbled forwards he found he didn’t care.

_ He’d saved them _ .

# # #

Technoblade was furious and Eret knew better than to hang around. While Endermen began to make a long journey around the perimeter of the new lake and the Dragon and Dream flew overhead, Eret took a moment to count the cost of the short but intense fight. The battlefield was messy, mud and blood mixing on the ground beneath his feet and staining the patches of snow that remained. There were more Human bodies than Endermen, by a long shot, but he couldn’t find it within himself to feel  _ good  _ about such a fact. Despite the small setback, this  _ was  _ a victory for the End. The Overworld had retreated so quickly, the ground they had lost would soon be made up and every last person that dared to fight against them would be eliminated. Those that didn’t fight would be consumed by the growing split in the Universe that had been left miles behind at the Stronghold, allowed to grow at its own pace. 

Eret found himself looking at the Humans that had died with pity. They had stood no chance, no weapons worth a damn, no real plan or training. It was a massacre. A sick feeling began to pool in his stomach as his walk took him closer to the water and for a moment he considered stepping into it, experimenting with what would happen to him if he came into contact with the liquid.

No longer having to fight in a war he didn’t want to win sounded peaceful.

But he swallowed back the feeling, pushed aside the thoughts, and continued to walk. He’d return to one of the ships soon enough, before anyone noticed he was missing, but he felt at home in the Overworld. Removing his helmet, he let the wind blow through locks of brown hair and closed his eyes. Leaning his head back he enjoyed a moment alone, a moment in which his identity was known to him however empty it was, a moment in which he held his past in his mind and his future in his hands, even if it was cruel. The sensation was enjoyable.

When he felt a whisper in his mind pulling him from his moment of solitude and reopened his eyes in response, he caught sight of something he didn’t expect to see. 

Armour glistened, dark armour like his.  _ Netherite _ . Eret knew damn well how hard the stuff was to come by, he’d already seen one man wearing it and doubted that the Human’s would have been able to source enough to make two entire sets of armour - especially given the state of the rest of their weapons. There was only one person this could be, logically, bu it was equally unlikely that  _ Herobrine  _ could be among the dead. Not so soon, not without a fight. He was a formidable warrior, he  _ couldn’t  _ have fallen so easily.

The thought kept him going, but a feeling in his gut pushed him forward and each step came a little quicker than the last until he came to a sudden halt, his knees buckling and his toes pushing him skidding through the mud until he was at the side of the body. Eret took in a breath, ignoring the shake of his hands as he reached forward to remove the helmet from the man before him and pulled it away slowly. It should have been a dead giveaway the moment he saw the armour, but he’d given himself a moment of hope. Now, staring at the skin that was split between Human and Endflesh, that seemed to fade away.

His own hands moved to cup the delicate cheeks of the man before him, thumb rubbing dirt across the torn skin and searching desperately for a trace of something that told him the man he held was still alive.

Some sign that his  _ brother  _ wasn’t gone.

“Hero,  _ please _ …” He begged, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. Somewhere from deep inside his mind he felt words tugging at him, words he couldn’t remember where they came from but begged to be let out.

“Live… Wake up,  _ wake up _ , and let the cloak of life cling to your bones…”

The words came out softly, like a melody, and as he repeated the line again and again he moved one hand away from the man’s face to instead hold his neck, his fingers searching pale skin to find a vein, to feel desperately for a pulse.

Too afraid of the truth to focus, unable to properly search for a heartbeat, he was taken aback when the man suddenly took in a deep breath and sat upright. Eret moved backwards swiftly, his hands retracting to his side as he watched the man look around in confusion, as if he didn’t quite know where he was or what had just happened. And then, after a moment passed and he became more comfortable with  _ where  _ he was, he made eye contact with Eret.

There was an extended silence, disbelief, confusion, curiosity and fear filling both of their hearts.

“Who are you?” 

Eret had expected such a reply, knowing the cruelties their father put him through he hardly imagined that Herobrine would have been delivered to the Overworld with any trace of who he was, any memory of his past, and so he offered the kindest smile he could in that moment. After all, he  _ did  _ now know what his brother’s voice sounded like.

“A friend.” Came the reply, the half truth causing his lips to tingle. “Someone you can trust.”

Should he push it further? Should he give his name, or speak Herobrine’s? What could he do that would give enough of a clue as to who he was without telling him the truth? 

“Are you--”

Herobrine’s question was cut short when the roar of a Dragon came from overhead and the two men looked away from each other, focused instead on the creature barrelling towards them. 

“I’ll explain later,  _ run _ .”

Herobrine’s eyes were wide, filled with something between fear and heartbreak, but he didn’t need telling twice. He disappeared in a moment, and as the Dragon and Dream descended towards Eret he tried to downplay the entire situation, act as if nothing had happened, and he clambered onto the beast as it’s heavy paws brought it to a halt. 

He knew his brother’s voice, his face… He knew he was  _ alive  _ and he knew he was  _ good _ . More than anything, that filled Eret with a joy that he was glad was hidden from sight. His brother was free from the pain that Technoblade had forced upon him - at least, to an extent he was free. He had control over himself and his decisions, he was unafraid to fight back… And maybe that meant there was hope for Eret, too. With Dream sitting in front of him, oblivious to the thoughts in his mind, Eret allowed himself to  _ smile _ .

_ He had a chance. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha doctor who references in minecraft fanfics go brrr
> 
> things aren't looking great for our heroes right now, but we've got some new friends (& i will explicitly promise that tommy & tubbo will come to no serious harm or death in the fic, they're minors irl & i would not feel okay with writing them in such a horrible situation. the dteam have said that fics are free game, but they're still kids & i want to emphasis that fact!)
> 
> edit: in case you're curious, nethore is netherite, the nether is evolving a little bit & so the humans don't yet know enough about it to use it's true name, & when i came up with that pun i was VERY proud, so for now they're calling it nethore. what can i say, comedy gold!


	8. A New Plan & Reconnaissance

The tension between the group had mellowed quickly. Skeppy and Tommy played off each other well, and while the language that Tommy used was a little more colourful than Bad cared for, they seemed happy. It was  _ nice _ to hear Skeppy laugh again, and each giggle that passed his lips left Bad feeling warmer inside. It was like they weren’t preparing for a war, like they were just together as a group of friends. As Bad taught Tubbo the subtle but important differences between netherrack and nethore Skeppy watched with a smile on his face. Both boys were incredibly good natured, Tubbo was curious and asked a lot of questions that Bad answered patiently, and Skeppy could tell just how much he was enjoying teaching someone something. He found himself falling a little bit more in love and, as Tubbo took a piece of the ore to show Tommy, Skeppy placed a hand on Bad’s shoulder.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Bad said. “Today was nice. I know it wasn’t what we were expecting but it was nice.”

“It was.” Skeppy agreed, and the distant voices of Tommy and Tubbo was enough to encourage him that he had enough time to lean in and press his lips gently to Bad’s, lingering for just a moment but not deepening. He brought a hand to Bad’s cheek when he pulled away, thumb resting against the soft skin of his face and admiring him. Neither man wanted to look away from the other, both just enjoying the closeness they had the chance to share, but the moment was eventually interrupted.

“Uhh, Bad?” 

Tubbo’s interjection had them stepping apart, Skeppy turning his body around to face the younger man as Tommy stood looking into the distance. The pair moved from where they stood in the small alcove they’d dug out while mining for the nethore and walked to Tommy’s side, looking out over the lava lake below and back towards the portal they’d emerged from. The bastion had been busy before but there was a hive of activity now, hundreds of Pigmen in armour organising into formation, the ambassador standing in front of the crowd. 

“Skeppy that’s--”

“We need to go.” Skeppy said, cutting Bad off mid sentence. Instead he grabbed his hand, picking up his pickaxe where it rested against a pile of netherrack, and started to run. The terrain under their feet was rock: uneven and undulating, but the realisation of what was going on was enough to spur the four to run as quickly as they safely could. Several tricky outcrops slowed them down but they couldn’t risk a fall into lava. Bad crossed them first, helping Tommy and Tubbo and offering Skeppy his hand as he thought.

_ None of them were wearing armour _ . 

There was no telling what awaited them on the other side of the portal, they could take one step through and find themselves dead immediately. But it was a risk they had to take, they could only hope that it would pay off and that they would be back with their friends before long.

Soon the ground beneath their feet turned from exposed stone to blue grass, strange mushrooms littering the forest-like floor that no one had been brave enough to pick and taste just yet. Right now it seemed of little importance with everything else going on around them, and by the time they made it safely to the bastion the realm was deserted, their clothes and faces covered with dirt and their nails split and fingers bloody from the treacherous journey being made a little more quickly than was sensible. 

“Bad, there’s some armour left here.” Skeppy said. “Not much, a chestplate and some boots.”

“Tommy, Tubbo, see if you can fit into it.” Bad instructed, not giving it a second thought. They were unarmed heading into unknown territory, at least he and Skeppy had weapons to fight with. Hopefully their worries about the state of the Overworld would be put to rest upon stepping through the portal and they would be able to take stock and arm themselves more thoroughly on the other side, but there was always a chance they wouldn’t be able to.

The chestplate was a little small and fit Tubbo much better than Tommy, the two slipping the gold boots over their own leather shoes, and Bad looked to Skeppy nervously.

“I’ll go first.” He said. “Give me thirty seconds, if I don’t come back in, assume it’s safe to follow me.”

“But what if--”   
  


“Don’t, Skeppy.” Bad cautioned. “Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll see you in the Overworld, I promise.”

Skeppy took a step back, not sure any argument he could make would win against Bad’s and believing that the time spent arguing would be wasted. Their friends could be dying in the Overworld, they  _ needed  _ them to work together and head on through, but that didn’t ease the feeling in Skeppy’s stomach. He  _ couldn’t  _ stand here and watch him risk his life, not when he was perfectly capable of risking his own. 

“I love you.” Skeppy whispered, and Bad let his expression soften.

“I love you too, Skeppy, just stay--”   
  


Content with the fact that he was distracted, Skeppy took several quick steps forwards, leather boots hitting the blackstone beneath his feet before he jumped through the portal and vanished, leaving Bad staring at where he’d been stood as he took in exactly what he’d done. 

He’d  _ tricked  _ him, risked his  _ life _ and for what? He couldn’t yell, couldn’t be hurt, he needed to focus on staying alert for when he crossed the portal himself, but he felt his emotions intensely. If they had a moment alone together, Bad would make sure Skeppy knew just how much that had hurt him. All Bad could do now was count, and the seconds seemed intent on passing slowly: the slowest thirty seconds he’d ever experienced, but Skeppy made no appearance before them.

Either he was dead, or he was safe. Two  _ very  _ different outcomes, but they made the leap of faith a little bit easier.

“You two follow me.” Bad said, looking over his shoulder at Tommy and Tubbo. Despite the scene that would likely greet them, both of them stood bravely and attentively, nodding at Bad’s words and watching him disappear. 

“Tommy?”

“Yes Tubbo?”

“Is it alright if I’m afraid?”

Tommy glanced to his friend at his side, taking in a deep breath of his own as he met his worried gaze. He was always the braver of the two, the more impulsive and reckless, and the nerves he was feeling were second to none. If he was worried about what faced them in the Overworld then there was no telling just how terrified Tubbo was - how much fear he was holding back.

“Yeah, you can be afraid.” Tommy said, giving a comforting smile to the shorter man and offering his hand. He could do it, he could be brave for his friend. “You ready?”

Reaching out, Tubbo grabbed a tight hold of Tommy’s hand and squeezed his grip just a little. “Yeah, ready.”

Tubbo closed his eyes, and both men stepped forward at the same time, feeling the pull of the portal as they travelled between realms. Their bodies were pushed out on the other side, dizziness and nausea clinging to them for a moment and providing a focal point for their minds for just a second before they took in the wider world around them.

They were inside the village. It was dark, the skies above them thick with clouds that cloaked the night sky, and that somehow made everything just a little more unsettling. The village itself was  _ busy _ , with Pigmen and villagers alike mingling, crowding into buildings far too small for the number of people that wished to enter. Illagers were dotted around, too, though they were mostly at the far end of the village. Aside from the beacon there was no light nearby - as if they were trying to keep themselves hidden from their enemies. When the two young men let go of each other’s hands, realising that they were in  _ some  _ kind of safety, Tubbo looked up. He could hear the screeches of flying creatures above - the familiar sound of Phantoms - but nothing was attacking. Somehow, that was worse. 

Tubbo took several steps away from the portal, his boots clinking against the ground beneath his feet as he walked. As he focused on the crowd, rather than up to the skies, he became painfully aware of the fact that the villagers seemed to be covered in thick layers of mud and blood, that people were limping and leaning on each other despite the armour they wore, and that there was more pain and suffering in this little corner of the world than he’d ever seen in his life.

He watched one man walk past, head in his hands and blood dripping down from his face at an alarming rate. It was hard to see what had happened to him past his fingers, but Tubbo saw him stumbling into another man who just barely caught him, helping him to continue to walk towards the church. He wondered why they were going there - to say a final prayer or to seek some kind of divine intervention for their injuries - he supposed either way it didn’t really matter.

“Tommy?” Tubbo’s voice came out a tad more of a squeak than he’d hoped it would, his fear becoming harder to push aside as he heard the roar of something more menacing above - a Dragon - and he swallowed nervously. “Tommy, we shouldn’t have stayed, this was a mistake.”   
  


Turning around at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, hoping to see the familiar and comforting face of his friend, he was instead greeted by a pale, stone cold and emotionless face. “Tommy?”

“You’re right.” Tommy said quietly, and Tubbo’s stomach twisted at his tone. He’d never seen his friend like this - so shut off and distant - and he didn’t want it to remain that way.

“It’s okay, we’re  _ okay _ , and we’re together, everything’ll be fine Tommy.” Tubbo said, taking it upon himself to reassure Tommy for once. It wasn’t often that it happened, but his words were met with a smile before Tommy leaned down and pulled his friend into a tight embrace. This was what he needed,  _ faith  _ that things would be okay in the end, and it would be enough to get them through whatever the world and the Gods threw at them.

“Where’d Skeppy and Bad go?”

“Arguing.” Tommy replied, taking in a deep breath as he pulled back and pointed over Tubbo’s shoulder. There, just as he’d said, were Bad and Skeppy talking to each other. It was clearly an argument, both incredibly animated in their movements and their responses, and Tubbo laughed.

“Are they flirting?”

“Oh,  _ definitely _ .” Tommy said, his tone returning to normal once more. “We should leave them to it. Come on, we need to find armour.”

It didn’t take long for the two men to be pulled aside, metal fingers resting on Tommy’s shoulder and a low voice speaking.

“You look lost.” Sapnap said. “And  _ young _ , you shouldn’t be here, don’t you know how dangerous this is?”

“We were in the Nether.” Tubbo explained quickly. “We didn’t know… We’re here to fight. We just need armour and weapons and we  _ can _ fight.”

Sapnap raised an eyebrow, not believing them for even a moment, but he had little choice any more. Those too young to fight had already been sent away, there was nowhere for the men to retreat to safely and if they were going to stick around, they  _ needed  _ to be able to be protected and they needed weapons. Sapnap directed them towards the blacksmith’s to collect the gear they could find. For a moment after they’d left he looked to the skies hopefully, praying that something  _ good  _ could happen, but it didn’t. So instead, one hand resting against the handle of his sword, he pushed through the crowds of soldiers and walked quickly towards the church.

He found exactly what he’d expected - George and Illumina standing around the table they had spent weeks planning around with their brows furrowed and faces filled with worry. There were people taking refuge, letting the beacon heal those that had been less injured than their counterparts and those with more severe wounds drinking potions to help regain their strength faster. The arrival of the Illagers had one final batch of totems being distributed, though there weren’t quite enough to go around. It was to be expected, there was  _ never  _ going to be enough, but Sapnap felt one thrust into his hands. He almost felt guilty taking it, but the feeling was overcome by the fear of what would happen if he  _ didn’t  _ take it. This gave him another chance. Sure, that chance might hurt like hell, but it was a  _ chance _ . He couldn’t waste it. 

Walking up to the pair that stood at the head of the church with the totem tucked into his belt, Sapnap joined their conversation wordlessly.

“We can’t fight them here, they’ve got too many advantages against us.”

“We could take it to the ocean--”

“ _ Herobrine _ .”

“It’d  _ work _ !” George said. “We’re safe in the water, the Endermen can’t attack there, it gives us  _ something  _ to work with. Everywhere else we’re going to be out strategized, what other chance do we have?”

“And what about you?” Illumina asked, his tone a blend of concern and upset that Sapnap couldn’t quite place. Something had shifted between the pair a few weeks ago and nothing had been mentioned to the rest of them about it, just another blank in his mind that he wondered if he’d ever get the answers to.

“You said it yourself, I have to be prepared to sacrifice everything for this realm.”

“But not  _ you _ , Hero. I can’t take another loss, if we’re to stand a chance you need to be alive.”

“I can’t take an entire army out alone, I’m leading them down to the water whether you like it or not.”

Sapnap looked between the two, their eyes locked with each other as they tried to see who would break first. In the end, it turned out to be Illumina, who’s shoulders sagged in defeat as his eyes closed slowly. 

“Don’t let me live to regret this.” He said quietly, a hand coming to rest on George’s shoulder and Sapnap swallowing.

“To the water, then?” He asked. “I can help. We should split into two groups, circle around and meet up on the beaches, that way we might be able to flank the Endermen if they’re attacking one of us.”

George looked over to Sapnap, his eyes softening somewhat. Sapnap could see tiredness in them and he worried his teeth over his bottom lip, knowing that it would be impossible to say anything about the state he was in without receiving a hostile reply. 

“Go with Skeppy, I’ll go with Bad, we’ll head through the forest and you can stick close to the mountains. If you head South you should be in cover most of the way. Just remember to use any water you can to your advantage, it’s the one edge we have over the Endermen and they can’t do anything to work against it. Stay safe, stay in touch, if anything happens you need to let us know as soon as possible.”

Sapnap nodded, taking in a breath before speaking. Now was the time to act but he needed to get  _ something  _ off his chest.

“Did you see Dream?”

George’s entire body language shifted at the mention of his name, the determination in his eyes fading and being immediately replaced with a dark, reserved acceptance. 

“I saw him.” He replied quietly. “On the Dragon, killing people. Techno…”

“We can help him.” Sapnap said, trying to reinvigorate George, but his words seemed to make no impact on the man. There was no response and instead of trying to push further he took that as the moment to stop talking. They had to focus. Without another word Sapnap left the church to find his friends, to let them know about the change of plan, and one more thought crossed his mind.

Skeppy and Bad were already walking towards him quickly as he stepped back out into the cold winter’s air, the world still seeming too quiet to be good, but his concerns were interrupted swiftly.

“Have you seen a6d?” Bad asked. Skeppy trailed behind him by a few steps, and the two young men from earlier were following too. They must’ve been with Bad and Skeppy in the Nether, and he supposed that made sense if they’d appeared in the midst of all this.

“Not since the fight, we were split up immediately.” Sapnap said honestly. “It was a massacre, I haven’t had any time to look for him but I can keep an eye out, we can’t go back to look now, we’ll be killed.” He told them. He could see worry on both of their faces but there was no time to let their thoughts linger on what may have been lost - what was important now was the future they still had to gain. “Skeppy, you’re coming with me, we’re splitting the group in two and heading for the beach. Bad, you’re with Illumina and George to lead the others. Spread the word, don’t mention Dream.”

“What? Is Dream--”

“He’s with Techno.” Sapnap said bluntly, not sure if that was better or worse than saying the only other option his friends could have been considering. “He’s on their side, but we can save him. I know we can. I  _ won’t  _ give up on him.”

Nothing else was said as their plan fell into motion, all spreading out to share the instructions with soldiers that were holed away in churches and homes. They would move soon, the cover of darkness at least giving them some kind of cover as they retreated further. As the moon rose in the sky and the soldiers began to group together, Bad returned to the church to find George and Illumina to lead their men. They were deep in discussion with the Pigman ambassador, the translator working overtime to help get their message across as quickly as it could be, and they looked to be coming to some kind of decision. Bad kept his distance, not wanting to disturb the talks as he saw hands raise in either frustration or celebration - he couldn’t quite tell.

The Pigman walked away from the pair after a moment longer, pushing past Bad on his way out and leaving the man confused. He knew better than to ask questions, though. If George and Illumina wanted him to know, they’d tell him themselves.

“We’re ready to go.” Bad told them. “Are you coming?”

The two shared a look, Illumina looking at George sternly and George holding his gaze for a moment before turning back to Bad with a smile on his face. The tension between the two men was palpable, it was uncomfortable, but George tried his hardest to sweep it under the rug.

“We’re coming. Come on, we’ve a war to win.”

With that, he walked forwards and rubbed his eyes as he joined Bad. Bad didn’t bother to ask if he was tired, knowing that his reply would only be upset and that it would cause more stress that they didn’t need. He just followed him out into the night, Illumina hot on his heels, and he hoped that whatever had come between them wasn’t enough to distract them from the work ahead.

# # #

“Where did the second helmet come from?”

Dream’s voice sent worry through Eret’s chest, his eyes shifting to look at the younger man but his head remaining forwards. He knew that wasn’t the thought of Dream, but of his father, and that meant his father knew what he’d seen. It meant his father knew he’d seen Herobrine, knew he’d  _ spoken  _ with Herobrine, and the question was only meant to see if he’d be honest. 

“Second helmet?”

Playing dumb never worked, not against anyone and  _ certainly  _ not against Technoblade, but he refused to give in. He knew now what his brother had sacrificed for him, the risks he’d taken to keep him safe, and surely after all these years it was only fair that Eret returned the favour.

“The Netherite helmet beside you when I found you, you’ve still got yours but there was another just lying in the mud.”

“Oh, I didn’t notice it.”

“What else had your attention?”

“Shush.” Eret said quickly, waving a hand towards Dream. “They’re making a move, keep an eye on them.”

Thankful that the situation before them was developing enough to avoid any real consequences of his actions, Eret shifted his attention away from Dream and towards the village. While it was  _ good  _ that it served as a distraction from his lies, he didn’t want there to be an opportunity to gather any useful information into the movements of their so called opponents, but he was running out of ideas. 

“They’re separating.” Dream said quietly, stating the obvious for the sake of continuing conversation. “Do they really think this will work? We’ve got so many more soldiers than they do, there’s nothing that can stop us. If they’re apart, they’re just making our lives easier. We’ll take them one at a time, overwhelm the groups and end this all before the sun starts to rise.”

Despite the fact that Dream was speaking, Eret could hear his father behind every word that dripped from his lips, and he felt himself shudder. Whichever way Herobrine and Illumina went, he needed to follow. Technoblade would surely go after them himself and the thought of losing the last remnants of his family to the man was something he would be unable to live with himself for.

“North, they’ve gone North.” Dream said, pointing an arm towards a large group of soldiers heading into the forest a little above the village. “There’s Pigmen and Illagers with them, not enough but they’re a little better trained than the villagers are. Still, it won’t pose much of a challenge.”

“So we head North?” Eret suggested, taking in a breath to keep his expression composed as he looked to Dream. “We get rid of their leaders?”

“We go South, take care of the army, then head North to help Technoblade finish them off.”

Eret hesitated, the plan had changed and he knew that was entirely because his father had seen him talking to Herobrine. No longer did he trust Eret to kill him, he needed him to be out of the way to guarantee his death. Now, his mind was running through every possible situation he could find himself in during that moment and trying to figure out the best way to change things. How could he best put a stop to his father’s plans? When did he stop going along with things and start on his own path?

“I said,  _ are you coming, Eret? _ ”

Eret got to his feet, remaining quiet and hidden by shadows as he watched the two halves of the army walk away. 

“I’m sorry, Dream.” Eret whispered, pulling an arm back and clenching his fingers together into a tight fist. “This isn’t personal.”

“No…” Dream said slowly, a smirk spreading across his face as he lifted a hand. “I suppose it isn’t.”

It was a battle of reflexes, and with Technoblade pulling on Dream’s strings and controlling him like a puppet there was no competition. Eret was ready to throw a punch, to knock the man to the ground and run after his brother, but Technoblade used Dream to summon the elements and react in a fraction of a second. As if from nowhere, thunder rumbled and lightning struck, and there was a moment during which Eret was in immeasurable pain.

And then, he was face down on the ground, body still. The extent of the damage done was impossible to see in the darkness but, content that Eret was no longer a concern, Dream walked away. Nothing more needed to be done.

# # #

George and Illumina led the group through the forest, grateful for the branches that hung low and protected them from any Endermen attacking. The creatures were too tall to fit beneath the trees and if they  _ did  _ try to attack then they’d be at an immediate disadvantage. It was the first  _ good news  _ that George had heard all day.

“I need to ask you something.” George said, his words somewhat firm as he spoke with Illumina quietly. They were a little ahead of the soldiers, enough to give them the privacy needed for the kind of conversation that George wanted to have. 

“Now isn’t the time, Hero.” Illumina replied, and George was certain it was because he could sense what he was going to ask.

“When I summoned the water for the river I collapsed, and when I woke up there was a man singing to me.”

“ _ Hero _ \--” Illumina warned, his tone making it  _ very  _ clear that he had no wish for this conversation to continue. “Don’t ask questions that you don’t want answered.”

“But I  _ do  _ want this answered, I want to know who he was.”

Illumina bit his tongue, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “You  _ think  _ you do, but you don’t. And if you feel the need to ask me who he is, then I think you already know yourself.”

“He said he was a friend. He didn’t give his name, or say where he was from, but he was familiar. He sang something to me, a song I know but I don’t know where from.”

“Then let’s keep it that way.” 

George wasn’t entirely surprised by the coldness of Illumina’s response, he could understand that his mind was focused entirely on the task at hand right now. But the simple fact that he  _ had  _ an answer that he was concealing told George almost everything he needed to know. The information that had been kept from him before now all fell into one category: there was only one thing that Illumina refused to tell him. He wasn’t sure how the thought settled in his stomach, if he was happy or horrified, but for now he tried to think of it objectively. This man, whether he was the man that George suspected him to be or someone entirely different, called himself a  _ friend _ yet he stood beside Technoblade. Perhaps that would give them yet another advantage, perhaps things could turn to work in their favour… 

Maybe all hope wasn’t lost quite yet.

They walked in silence again, the tension from before returning and unease filling the gap between the pair before Illumina came to an abrupt halt. He held his arm out in front of George, stopping him in his tracks and sensing the army behind them coming to a stop too. 

“We don’t have much longer.” Illumina said. “You need to lead them the rest of the way, I need to go.”

“Illumina-”

“I said I need to go _ , Herobrine _ .” 

“ _ Grandfather. _ ” George said firmly, his tone raised and exasperated as the word caught Illumina’s attention and caused his focus to dial in on the younger man before him. It was a word that hadn’t been used on the God in what felt like a lifetime, several lifetimes, and any thoughts in his mind that weren’t about his daughter or his grandson that stood before him vanished. He was leading a war, he was protecting his realm, but this was the grandson he thought he had lost hundreds of thousands of years ago. It was enough to pull him out of his thoughts for a moment to realise what he had, before something happened and he risked losing it forever.

“Herobrine.” He said softly, taking a step towards him and resting his hands on George’s shoulders gently. “Protect this realm, protect these people, protect  _ yourself. _ You know what has to be done, and I believe that you have the strength to do it.”

A beat past, but before George had a chance to respond he felt Illumina lean forwards. He had very little time to process what was happening, but he felt the soft press of lips against his forehead and a hand moving from his shoulder to cup his cheek, thumb brushing away some of the dirt on his face. It was almost  _ normal _ , and if it hadn’t been for the situation they found themselves in George would have let himself enjoy the moment for a little longer. But as soon as the touch had been initiated the hand was pulled away and George found himself feeling cold and alone.

“Whatever happens, I’m proud of you for what you’ve done, Herobrine. Your  _ mother  _ would be proud of you. You are undoubtedly a good man, and I have every faith that you will bring this war to a close.”

George stood dumbfounded by the kind words directed at him, unsure of how to even begin to form a reply. As his life had been explained to him and his past had been clarified time and time again - his heritage both revealed and feared - he had felt lost, like a shell of the man he had been at the start of all of this despite finding out he was no less than a God. To hear that his grandfather was proud of him, to have  _ something  _ to cling to… He opened his mouth to respond, painful tears prickling at his tired eyes, but Illumina had vanished.

“George?”

Bad’s voice cut through the silence, a hand resting on his shoulder and prompting him to look around. He must’ve overheard the conversation - at least enough to start to put things together - but still his face was filled with the same kindness and understanding that Bad always provided. 

“We need to keep moving, the longer we’re still the more chance we have of someone finding us.”

“Yeah.” George replied quietly, taking in a deep breath and pushing his shoulders back as he steeled himself against his emotions once more. He could dwell on the words after the war was won, but for now he had to prove that Illumina was right, he had to show that he was someone  _ worth  _ being proud of. 

  
The thought hammered in his skull as he and Bad began to walk again, the clouds above parting and moonlight illuminating their journey towards the ocean. He could do what was required of him, he would keep these people safe and  _ be  _ the God that they needed them to be. He could make them  _ all  _ proud of him. He just dreaded what he was going to have to do to prove it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am afraid of people's reactions to this chapter, because the next three are all worse than this (& worse than each other) & i'm pretty sure y'all are gonna have my head by chapter 10


	9. Fight & Flight

The village was quiet and still, a thin cloud of mist rested close to the cobblestone path and clung to the corners of the buildings as the sun began to rise. The blades of grass that grew between the bricks were heavy with frozen dew - no snow had fallen the night before and the hive of activity in the village had been enough to force any remaining snow to melt as footsteps had paced back and forth for hours on end. After everything that had happened in such a short space of time the desolate streets seemed haunted with echoes of children’s laughter and of friends rejoicing. The church that Illumina had hidden in for years, powers unused as he remained undetected by Technoblade, stood obscured by the mist but proud against it all. The memories the building held were of nothing but wasted time. He shouldn’t have been tucked away safely while his grandsons had been forced to suffer at the hand of their wretched father: his daughter would have been heartbroken if she saw the suffering that he had allowed. His only hope now was that it wasn’t too late to undo the damage that had been caused.

He walked through the twisting streets, following the slight downhill slope of the village until he came to the edge of the river and paused - not crossing the bridge - he’d found what he’d come for. Illumina took in a breath, steeling himself against whatever painful sight would await him, and pushed aside the burnt shrubbery to see exactly what he feared.

The body of his grandson.

Even with his armour, Illumina could see the differences between George and Eret. Eret was bulkier, his muscles more defined from millenia of training, but his face was littered with the traces of scars, a story of pain etched into him forever by the monster that he dared to stand against. Illumina didn’t  _ doubt  _ that Eret was strong, that he was fearless - he’d seen him on the battlefield and he carried himself well, but as he lay unconscious and singed on the ground he appeared weak, small, and his heart ached for the grandson that he’d never had a chance to know. 

He picked up his body with ease, not wanting to stand around outside where they could be easily caught and wanting instead to take Eret somewhere he could rest soundly. He knew his grandson was alive but it didn’t stop his fingers from moving to search for a pulse as he returned to the village slowly, the reassurance of the weak beating of his heart something he would be eternally grateful for. From here, he would be healed slowly by the beacon, shielded from Dream and Technoblade if they decided to search for him and finish the job. He would be  _ safe _ .

Illumina was careful as he carried Eret, taking him into the church as the sun began to stream through the windows. Dust danced in the rays of light, moved by the gust of air that had accompanied Illumina as he’d entered. He could see his breath as he exhaled and so, not wanting the man to suffer any more than he already had, he fetched whatever fabric he could find. Intricate tapestries woven over years from cotton that had been dyed slowly and by hand were the easiest to come by - hanging plentifully on the walls of the building and telling countless stories. He gathered several, taking a cushion that was used in prayer before returning to his grandson.

The pillow slipped neatly under his head and the tapestries were placed over his body, his helmet removed and placed beside him to allow him to rest a little more comfortably. Illumina felt a strained breath leave his lips as he saw the story of the tapestry that covered him - his mother woven in loving memory now covering his chest and keeping him safe once more. He blinked back tears. He was unable to change the loss of his daughter, but could prevent any more harm coming to her children. 

Sitting beside Eret for a moment and allowing himself to reach out with a hand and comb through the long curls of his hair, Illumina felt remorse run through his body. He could have stopped this sooner, and yet he had let the man suffer. He couldn’t imagine forgiveness, or understanding, but he hoped that with time Eret would reach a point from which he could move on from the wrongs of yesterday. If he didn’t, there would be nothing he could do to stop him, but his heart yearned for the chance of an amicable relationship with his surviving family greatly. When the war was over, perhaps Eret would allow him the kindness of a conversation. 

For now, he would indulge in the quiet they sat in, relish the fact that Eret was alive, and stay with him for as long as he could afford. Instead of talking and trying to find some kind of apology in the unconscious man for himself, he found himself humming quietly. After a moment he began to sing, the words soft and calm as they left his lips in an attempt to offer Eret just a little comfort while he recovered.

“Rest now, my warrior. Your hardship is over. Live, wake up…”

In a moment, the world outside shifted and became a juxtaposition of the atmosphere within the church. Overhead he heard the sounds of wails and cries, the familiar noises of Ghasts shaking the walls of every building within the village. He let himself smile just a little at that, closing his own eyes as he continued to provide comfort to the boy beside him.

If the Ghast’s were here, if they’d come to help, then there was one more creature on the side of the Overworld, one more mob for Technoblade and the Endermen to struggle against: maybe there was hope. 

A particularly strangled wail followed his thought, accompanied by the sound of whooshing, and Illumina took in a breath as fighting began overhead. The slow moving End Ships would stand no chance against the Ghast’s - although he knew that meant an outpouring of Endermen would soon overflow the village. Perhaps the place he had called home for so long would soon disappear, nothing more than broken bricks and glass to serve as a reminder for what had been lost. He couldn’t move Eret, though. The risk was far too great, he needed to have the support from the beacon to heal and so he moved away slowly. He retracted his fingers from the younger man’s hair and leaned down to press a kiss against his forehead. It was gentle, and he knew that it was a gesture that the man would never remember. He just hoped it wouldn’t be the only one he would be able to give.

With the moment of calm gone, Illumina walked quickly through the church. His footsteps echoed around him and as he opened the door he took one last look over his shoulder, cherishing the appearance of his sleeping grandson and using the thought to keep him going as he stepped back outside into the cold winter’s morning. 

Outside was just as he had predicted it to be - the skies above sparsely filled with clouds that the sun hid behind periodically, though it was filled with dozens of ships. It was hard to see the purple in this light, though it was obvious enough to those who knew what to look for, but the ships were moving slowly while Ghasts attacked. From where Illumina stood they were small, but even he knew better than to ignore the power that they held. They were more than capable of causing damage even to a God like him, and so he was certain that they would make quick work of the End Ships.

A steady stream of Endermen seemed to be landing out on the fields, teleporting to safety before their vessels exploded with them still inside, and Illumina grew fearful at the sheer number of soldiers they had. Without Dream or Technoblade in sight it was only logical to assume that, somewhere, there were  _ more  _ soldiers following orders. It would be difficult to win this battle. Not impossible, but  _ difficult _ .

For now there was only one thing Illumina could do: distract the Endermen, buy some time for their haphazard army to prepare just a little more for an influx of soldiers. Instead of returning to the beach he ran forwards, trying to garner the attention of the Endermen as they landed. This part was easy, what was difficult was keeping himself from worrying about his grandsons. But for now, he had no other choice. He had to keep going.

# # #

The sky in the distance was lighting up with explosions, though the group were too far away to tell what was happening as they walked. After being out for the night they were exhausted, and even with youth on their side Tommy and Tubbo were starting to struggle to keep up with Skeppy and Sapnap. The night had, if nothing else, been easy. No mobs had cornered and threatened them, and it was easy to believe that they had heard about the prophecy themselves and tried to run. The realisation that running may have been a better idea was one that many were coming to as the quiet of night had given them a chance to think about the battle from the day before. Quick, intense, and a loss. Did they stand a chance of winning? Was this all just going to prolong the inevitable?

“They’re taking out the ships, does that mean there won’t be any reinforcements coming?” Tubbo asked, trying to find something hopeful on the horizon for them all as they walked down the frost covered slope, the grass covered in tiny crystals of ice that crunched while they walked.

“No. The Endermen will teleport to safety, most likely. If there’s even any on there, it  _ could  _ all just be a bluff to distract us.” Skeppy’s voice was one of reason, though more from exhaustion than anything else.

Sound from the first explosions finally reached the group, much quieter than they’d expected it to be. Seeing ships falling from the sky should have been a reason to rejoice but it was difficult to find optimism in the moment.

“What about the Ghast’s? Surely if they’re working with us that’s good news, maybe that means the Nether is on our side too?” Tommy offered, and there was a pause before Sapnap answered.

“Maybe. I don’t expect to see any Blaze’s joining the cause any time soon, though. I wouldn’t hold your breath on having any more support. What you see now? This is it.”

“This is all we need.” Tubbo said, raising his voice just a little to try and lift the spirits of the people walking closest to them. “We can do this, we’ve got each other’s backs.”

Sapnap chuckled quietly to himself, looking to Skeppy with a small smile on his face. As much as he hated to admit it, Tubbo’s positivity was making him feel an awful lot more confident about all this.

“Where’d you find these two?”

“They followed Bad and I into the Nether.”

“I think that might’ve been the best luck any of us have had in a long time.”

# # #

The beach was quiet. Under the morning sun, shining over the waves and reflecting back like diamonds, it was easy to believe that everything was well in the world. But with tired soldiers finding themselves on their knees, closing their eyes as they felt soft sand beneath them, it was clear that things were as far from well as they could be. The sound of the waves was enough to trick some people into closing their eyes despite the danger that lay over the horizon, and while George’s mind had wandered during the walk he was now fixed solely on the moment. 

He had to do what his grandfather said: he had to make Illumina proud.

“I can’t see the others.” Bad said. “Should we be worried?”

“If something was happening, we’d know.” George replied. “We’d hear it, I’d feel it.”

“So what do we do now? Just wait? Should we prepare or  _ something _ ?”

George paused for a moment, taking in Bad’s suggestion, before turning and walking silently towards the rolling waves. The ocean stretched out as far as he could see, colliding with the sky in the distance as the horizon faded into nothingness. He brought his hands to his face, resting just above his eyes to help him see against the sporadic light of the sun as it poked behind clouds. Taking another step forward he felt a splash of water against his boots, a few drops managing to seep between the gaps in his armour and land on his skin. It was painful, but the pain helped him to focus on the light he could see emerging from beneath the water, so he took another step in and grit his teeth.

“Doesn’t that hurt you?”

“No.” He lied. “I can see something, out there, I need to go--”

“George, you can’t leave us, we  _ need  _ you. What is it? I can go.”

“A monument.” He said simply, though he wasn’t entirely sure  _ where  _ the knowledge came from. “There’s creatures in there that could help us, if we take this battle to the water the Endermen don’t stand a chance.”

Bad looked at George closely. There was no denying that what he said - it  _ was  _ a good idea - but he felt as if he couldn’t trust George. Maybe he was lying about the water hurting him, maybe there was something else, but he felt in his gut like the words being spoken to him shouldn’t be trusted.

“We need to wait for Skeppy and Sapnap, they’re expecting to meet us here.”

“Then wait here.” George said, sheathing his sword and pushing his shoulders back. He didn’t know how long he’d last -  _ if  _ he’d last - but it was a risk he was willing to take. Save the Overworld, make his grandfather proud, this was certainly one way of doing it. At least his armour would keep out  _ some  _ of the water, right?

Not giving himself another moment to think it through, to let doubt grow in his mind or give Bad an opportunity to stop him, George moved forwards quickly. While the Netherite armour was tough, there were still gaps where the boots met the leggings, the leggings met the chestplate, and his helmet was entirely gone. As water dripped in and soaked into his clothes, a dull pain beginning to encompass his entire lower body, there was absolutely no denying just how agonising the feeling on his head and neck was. Despite being in bitterly cold water he felt as if his body was on fire, he wanted to  _ scream _ for help, but instead plunged his head underwater and forced his arms to swim against the tide - feet pushing away from the sand as the ground beneath him plunged deep below and he could no longer reach the ocean floor. 

Each movement hurt, and it hurt like  _ hell _ . As his arms completed stroke after stroke, moving between both the air and the water, he felt his body starting to become numb with pain and cold and instead shifted the bulk of his movements to his feet. He kicked hard, propelling himself forwards as he panted and let out quiet grunts. Sure, he might have been making good progress away from shore, but he couldn’t risk being heard.

Looking back over his shoulder for a brief moment he could see the beach behind him getting further away, Bad’s back to him, and he stopped moving. It felt like he’d travelled for miles, but in reality he was only several hundred meters away from the sand and the monument he’d seen was still far away - the distance deceptive as the water refracted what he saw. But he couldn’t give up, he _wouldn’t_ give up, even if it took hours: even if it killed him. He began to move again. Stroke, kick, stroke, kick, breathe. Stroke, kick, stroke, kick, _breathe_.

His body was crying out for him to stop, skin peeling away from his neck and revealing the same dark Endflesh that had appeared on his face and fingertips. Without the extra layer of protection, everything hurt more, and he was becoming tired.

He tried to focus on what he could see around him, rather than the pain he was in. In the water that surrounded him he could see shoals of fish swimming around together, their fins iridescent and reflecting in patterns as they all managed to move in perfect synchronisation. He could see life growing at the bottom of the water - plants growing and colonies of tiny animals living on them - something that might survive the war if things didn’t turn out as well as he hoped. Maybe they would be the next sentient species to evolve and walk the planet: maybe something could live.

The monument was still far away, and he knew it was far too late to turn back. He had to keep going. He  _ had _ to keep going, though it felt like he was barely even capable of treading water at this point. 

Maybe, just maybe, he’d overestimated his abilities. Maybe he’d made a mistake. Maybe this was the exact kind of failure his father had punished him for - maybe this was why he’d been cast aside all those years ago.

Maybe, if he drowned, it wouldn’t be such a horrific loss for the cause.

George closed his eyes for a moment, he  _ couldn’t  _ let himself think like that. He needed to take a breath, he needed to find a way to control the pain he was in, and he needed to continue to swim. 

One, two,  _ three _ .

He began to kick his legs again, began to move his arms, counting with each movement he made as if somehow that would make it all easier. But it wasn’t getting easier, the tides of the ocean seemed to be carrying him further and further away with each stroke. He might not want to give in, but his body might not be giving him an awful lot of choice before long.

George heard a whistle, and for the briefest of moments he wondered if he was losing his mind entirely. Maybe this was what dying felt like.

After everything he’d been through, it almost felt like a relief.

But he heard it again, closer, and closer a second time. Something was making the noise - calling to him. Something was…

He felt the snout of a dolphin butting against one of his legs, and another whistle took his attention away from his spiralling mind and his pain and placed it on the creature before him. It whistled and clicked, trying to speak with him, and the strongest smile he could muster up filled his lips while he let a breathless laugh escape him. His arms stopped moving in that moment, eyes glazing over, and the creature knew what to do - as if on instinct. It moved in front of him, its body pressing up against his front and forcing him to the surface. As he emerged, water began to drain from between the gaps in his armour, his breathing began to even out and his mind began to work through the pain he was in. He was able to focus on what was going on around him again, able to look at the monument before him and realise that it was getting closer, and he could understand the dolphin that was carrying him safely towards the structure.

It was comforting him, it had heard his silent calls of pain that even  _ he  _ had been oblivious to, and it had come to save him. It might have felt like the end, but the creatures of this world weren’t going to let him die that easily. Perhaps he was more intune with the world around him than he’d first thought.

His strength came back gradually as the dolphin swam, and as they approached the monument he could see the beasts that surrounded it much more clearly. Guardians: some swimming in patrols and others sinking deeper into the ocean with their spikes extending. He knew this was a risk, one  _ hell  _ of a risk, but he’d come this far. 

George held out a hand, taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes as he focused himself. He did what he had learned, he let everything happen naturally, and he heard the hissing before him that told him he’d succeeded. When he opened his eyes, he smiled.

A small cobblestone island, extending down to the top of the monument and remaining in place despite the force of the ocean around it. As the dolphin neared the platform, George pulled himself up and jumped, needing a few steps to bring himself to a half before the creature returned to the ocean once more. He had no way back, but for now it didn’t matter: his goal was beneath him.

This time he was prepared for the pain that he would experience and, he hoped, would be better equipped to deal with it. Still, he took a moment to brace himself and scan the water below before he took the plunge.

The initial pain wasn’t as bad as it had been before, and he used his time wisely to begin his descent. His body ached faintly as he swam, Guardians eying him with hostility but not quite attacking - perhaps they could tell that something wasn’t quite right with his presence and were too afraid to attack, or too curious, but he navigated the rooms quickly and swam as fast as he could to abate both the pain in his body and the slowly growing heaviness in his chest. He’d been so preoccupied with his concerns for the pain water would cause him that he hadn’t stopped to think about breathing, and now already beneath the water and with the maze of the monument behind him he had a new reason to panic.

No, he didn’t need to panic, he needed to concentrate: focus.

Manipulating the world around him always came so much easier when he could breathe and walk himself slowly through the steps he had learned, but he didn’t have that option now. Water surrounded him and the only way he would be able to breathe was if he got rid of it entirely. With his cheeks puffed out, face gradually turning red, he swam into a corner and closed his eyes tightly. He had one shot at this, if it didn’t work then he was as good as dead. With one hand he pressed against the prismarine walls behind him, fingers working through the pain to feel the way the structure connected to the earth, to whisper to the world…

And suddenly he was cold, the water directly surrounding him replaced with air that hadn’t existed a moment before, and he gasped for breath. He leaned his head back against the bricks, feeling his knees give beneath him and his body sliding towards the ground. He hadn’t realised just how much of his strength he’d used to get here, or how much pain he’d been in, and was  _ very  _ glad for the moment of respite that he had found. Breathing had never felt so good, and air had never tasted so sweet.

He knew the dangers of being in an ocean monument, but being ignored by the Guardians gave him hope. He now had to cling to that hope and cross his fingers that the Elder Guardians would treat him in the same way. 

# # #

“Dream…”

Technoblade’s voice was like a purr, his fingers pressing beneath his chin and tilting his head backwards to look at him with a sickly smile on his face. “You’re doing so very well, I am  _ very  _ proud of you.” 

In his mind, Dream was screaming. Part of his consciousness still existing, Technoblade hadn’t managed to stamp him out completely, but that was almost worse. It meant that everything he was made to do,  _ he  _ experienced even if he couldn’t stop himself. He knew of the plans to kill George, to kill their friends, and he knew that when the moment came he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He knew that he would merely sit and watch as a blade plunged through their chest or a bolt of lightning struck them down.

The thought of what had happened to Eret made him want to shudder, but he was incapable of doing so. Eret had wanted to do what was right, and Dream wished desperately that he’d been just a little bit stronger - strong enough to hold Technoblade back long enough for the man’s fist to connect with his face - but he hadn’t been. Now he was standing beside the God, forced to look at him and his dark gaze, and  _ know  _ what he’d done to his friends already - what more he had planned for them. 

He wasn’t a God, no matter what powers he had. Technoblade was a monster. 

“You dispatched of Eret, and I am  _ very  _ proud. It turns out that  _ you  _ were the experiment bound to succeed, I should have known that boy was as rotten as his brother. Today, we’ll end the lives of everyone that stands in our way. I want  _ you  _ to have the honour of killing Herobrine.”

“George is-”

“Herobrine is a  _ sham _ , I built him up and look at how he repays me. Dream, I can make  _ you  _ so much more powerful than he ever was, and all you have to do is stand by my side.  _ Kill Herobrine _ , prove to me that you aren’t just as pathetic as they are.”

Dream opened his mouth, but before even a breath managed to leave his lips he felt a pressure in his head - almost pressing down onto his brain itself - and he gasped in pain. His hands shot up to his forehead and he nodded quickly, his eyes squeezing tightly shut. 

“I’ll kill him, I’ll kill Herobrine, I promise.”

And then, just like that, Technoblade resumed  _ full  _ control of Dream. Sometimes it was fun to watch him fight, to put up a struggle and to realise the consequences of his actions. Sometimes it was fun to see the pain of his moral compass crumbling before him. Technoblade offered a hand and Dream took it willingly, and the two disappeared in unison to descend on the beach.

# # #

The Guardians could help. George swam to the surface, the pain in his body forgotten with that thought.  _ The Guardians could help them _ . Making their way out to sea would be difficult, but it was possible, and as soon as the battle was away from land they had a  _ huge  _ advantage. His fingers pressed against the underside of the cobblestone platform and he pulled himself up, dragging his body out of the water slowly and rolling onto his back as he let himself recover. Clouds in the sky floated overhead, things almost seemed peaceful when he heard it.

Screaming.

He scrambled to his feet, his armour hitting against itself and making various clanging sounds as he moved quickly to see what the screams were being caused by. While the sky in the distance was still alive with the explosions of fireballs against falling ships, he could see something much more worrying appearing closer to home - figures above the beach silhouetted against the sun. But George didn’t need to know in detail  _ who  _ they were, he was perfectly capable of figuring it out himself. 

Despite knowing just how much it would drain his energy, and how desperately low on strength he already was going into a fight, he needed to get back to land. With his hands outstretched before him, George began to run. At the edge of the cobblestone platform he jumped and closed his eyes, and felt his boots landing on fresh rock that was still a little warm and pliable beneath his feet. It worked, and he  _ smiled _ as he began to run once more. Knowing that it worked he no longer felt the need to stop, jumping from platform to platform as he created land beneath him. He could feel the power running through his veins, and while he was  _ tired  _ he found himself equally filled with new life - it was like something inside him had finally awoken. Despite it all, despite what he was getting himself into, he was smiling.

As the water beneath him began to shallow he reached down and grabbed his sword, surveying the crowd that was fleeing and trying to shield themselves from Technoblade and Dream, he made eye contact with Bad and offered him a small thumbs up. He could take this - though the expression that Bad gave him in return was one of fury. A conversation for another time. 

“I’m over here, if you want me.” George called, waving and offering a smile to the pair. He tried not to think about Dream, about how much he loved him and how much this was going to hurt. For now, he needed to lure them away from the people. They could fight against the Endermen, but not so much against Gods. “If you think you can take me, that is.”

It was stupidly cocky, but George gave them a smirk and teleported away. He had their attention, he knew his father wished for nothing less than his demise and that now, he would be distracted. As he found himself in the forest - the ground beneath his feet solid in every direction once more, he began to run through the trees. If he could make it back to the village then he could find his elytra and that would make it even easier to put distance between himself and the soldiers. 

As he twisted around tree trunks and jumped over exposed roots he saw a flash, then a figure, and he raised his sword to strike until-

“Hero, thank goodness, we need to-”

“Dream and Technoblade are following me, the army’s still on the beach, I spoke to the Guardians and-”

“Guardians? You went into the ocean?”

“No time to explain, I’ll take Dream as far away as I can.”

The pair were speaking quickly, talking over each other as they tried to get their messages across. Illumina reached for his sword as the conversation proceeded, already preparing himself to fight when the arrival of Dream and Technoblade was marked with a flash. For a moment the four stood in an almost civilised manner - the two old Gods staring each other down and George and Dream watching each other intensely. An ancient rivalry and a new generation of foes. In any other situation it could almost have been called poetic, but the tension between them could cut a poet in half without thinking twice.

“What are the odds of meeting you here, gentlemen?” Technoblade asked, drawing his own sword and stepping behind Dream to begin to prowl towards Illumina. Right now he was a predator, and Illumina was his prey. He’d killed one God and he would kill another with ease.

“The games are over, Technoblade.” George said, sounding a little braver than he felt. “Your time is up. You won’t win this time.”

“Oh,  _ Herobrine _ , I’ve already won.” Technoblade laughed, and he let his gaze move to look at Dream. “He’s so much better than either you or Eret were, who knew that you were just guinea pigs. At least you had  _ some  _ use.”

George growled, his grip tightening on his sword. The only thing that stopped him from stepping forward and striking his father was Illumina, the man almost subconsciously preventing him from making any rash choices.

“Your quarry is with me, Technoblade. Herobrine is your son, spare him from your cruelties for once in your life.”

“Oh, I believe  _ someone  _ will take care of him for me.”

As if on cue, Dream whistled, and the conversation came to a halt as a roar came from the skies. The Dragon descended, her breath covering the forest in poison but flattening the trees surrounding the four men just enough to have room to land. Technoblade and Illumina disappeared, leaving George and Dream facing off. Dream moved quickly, clambering onto the Dragon’s back and George barely had a second to react himself. Before the Dragon had a chance to start flying he grasped a tight hold of her tail, sheathing his sword and bringing his second hand to help pull himself up as she left the ground and took flight.

It only took a moment for the Dragon to reach a high altitude, Dream comfortably positioned on her back and ready to fight as he watched George struggle. Wind rushed through his hair, flopping over his eyes and parting to push back over the curves of his face. His fingers struggled to keep a tight grip on the tail, so he forced himself to shift further along her body despite the fact that this put him well within Dream’s range of him and that he was at an immediate disadvantage in that situation. It was, after all, better than falling to his death. 

Using his shoulders and back muscles to pull himself up he managed to move quickly, sliding in between the kite shaped plates that ran along the Dragon’s spine and he reached for his sword. Dream was already shifting, getting to his feet despite the wind that threatened to knock him over as the Dragon dipped and swerved in the sky, avoiding the projectiles of Ghasts that had gotten  _ interested  _ in her.

“Dream, we don’t have to do this.” George said, slowly getting to his own feet but not quite trusting his balance as well as Dream did. As they soared through the sky, the frozen and destroyed countryside below them, they both had their arms outstretched and their swords pointed towards the other. “Whatever’s going on, whatever Technoblade has done to you,  _ we can fix this _ .”

“And what if this is what I want? What if there’s nothing  _ to  _ fix?”

“That isn’t  _ you _ !” George yelled, making himself heard over the wind. “Dream,  _ please _ , I don’t want to kill you.”

“I won’t give you the chance.”

Dream struck first, raising his sword back over his shoulder and bringing his second hand to help provide a more powerful swing towards George, who immediately moved to block. Despite Dream’s aggressive threat, George  _ didn’t  _ want to fight him, and taking a defensive stance would make that clear from the beginning. It didn’t stop Dream, though, and his sword came down again and again. His netherite blade slowly began to chip away at George’s diamond one, tiny pieces of the crystal chipping off with each swing. 

It would break, and George would be utterly helpless against Dream and Technoblade. So he sheathed his sword and grabbed his shield in one swift movement, ducking behind the wooden object and hearing the sound of a heavy hit. 

Over the top of the iron outline he could see the eyes of a madman, a man quite literally possessed, with long locks of dirty blonde hair whipping around his face, his features sharper than the last time they had been seen each other. It had been almost a month since he’d last seen Dream, but he had no time to think about the pain of their reunion as Dream took a step forward and raised his sword above his head with the intention of impaling George over his shield. Without the time to process his actions he let go, the shield immediately being carried away by the wind and plummeting towards the ground below. George let himself lean to the side and felt his balance fail, his body beginning to fall as Dream brought the sword down quickly.

The blade pierced the back of the Dragon and she let out a wail of pain, her body jerking violently and throwing Dream to the side. He too fell, and while George had managed to grab a tight hold of one of the plates of her spine, slowly trying to bring himself back up while she bled, Dream had been carried back a little by the wind. He had caught her tail,  _ only just _ , and memories flashed before George’s eyes.

_ This was how he’d killed Bad _ .

“Dream!” George cried, offering out his hand as soon as he was steady and shifting himself along the spine of the Dragon. She continued to twist, reacting particularly violently when he shimmied over the stab wound, but he kept himself grounded. He  _ wouldn’t  _ let Dream fall. “Take my hand,  _ please _ , just reach for me.”

It was as if something  _ clicked  _ at that moment, because Dream did exactly that. The hand that held the Dragon’s tail remained tight in its grip, his other hand straining as he tried desperately to wiggle his fingers just a little bit closer to George’s. An inch or two more and he’d have caught hold of him - they were so  _ close _ .

His grip on the tail slipped and all of a sudden two inches became two feet, George’s eyes widening in panic. He wouldn’t lose Dream, he  _ couldn’t  _ lose Dream, no matter what that meant for the rest of the Overworld. With his arm still outstretched, Dream froze in the air, his grip on the Dragon now completely immovable as George held him in place. Swallowing nervously, not wanting to let Dream move again in case he disappeared, he moved over one more plate. Leaning his body further down and forwards, he shifted to use his legs to cling on for dear life. He closed his eyes,  _ praying  _ to the Universe itself that Dream would be safe as he let him go. 

And, as if his prayers were answered, he felt the warmth of Dream’s hand in his. Opening his eyes, he smiled, he  _ laughed _ as relief filled his body. Using all of his strength he began to lean upwards once more, with Dream managing to move up the Dragon’s tail until he too was sitting on her back, legs straddling her. But Dream wasn’t smiling.

Somehow, when Dream  _ did  _ begin to smile it unsettled George. The smile didn’t belong to Dream, it didn’t belong to someone that was about to thank him for saving his life, and perhaps that meant he should have seen the next move coming.

Dream leaned forwards to close the gap between them, one hand moving to George’s side and grasping the hilt of his sword and the other reaching out to grab his neck, fingers digging into his Endflesh and squeezing tightly to cut off his airways. Even if George had wanted to speak, he couldn’t, but his wide eyes filled with fear and the betrayal written clearly on his face were enough to get the message across to Dream. And the smile on his face, the glint in his eyes, was enough to get the message across to George.

The Overworld was  _ doomed _ .

# # # 

Illumina was quick to escape the Dragon’s breath and to bend the world around him to his advantage. He elevated himself ever so slightly, not wanting to sap his strength like he had done before but still wanting to be able to see exactly  _ where  _ Technoblade was approaching from. He scanned every direction, sword held between his hands and his body weight shared between his legs, expecting the other God to attack at any moment. Except the longer he  _ didn’t  _ attack the more worried he became that Technoblade had planned something else.

Lightning struck the trees around him - a half dozen sparking on fire at the same time - and he knew that Technoblade was toying with him. Destroying his precious Overworld, tearing apart his family, this was all a game to him and it would continue to be one until he lost.

“You know you can’t beat me, that’s why you’re doing this.”

“To think that would be  _ incredibly  _ naive of you, Illumina.” Technoblade replied, walking between two burning trees. Black soot rose into the sky and flames lapped at his clothing, but he remained unphased as he drew his sword. “I have beaten you time and time again. I took and killed your daughter, I moulded your grandsons into weapons, I’ve experimented on more mortals than you’ve ever even noticed have gone missing. I killed the God of the Nether with my own hands, just for  _ fun _ , and I even made sure that your little plot to bury this prophecy away was foiled. You think you’ve kept yourself so well hidden from me all this time, but you played so perfectly into my hands.”

“So what, you kill me and this is all over?”

“Yes, did you expect something more? You aren’t worth anything more.”

With that, Technoblade lifted his sword with one arm and brought it gliding down towards Illumina. This was entirely for show - and they both knew it. Fighting with swords was primitive. Brutal, effective at times, but far too  _ Human  _ for Gods to use if they wanted a quick kill. No, this battle was personal, and they both  _ craved  _ the opportunity to get up close to each other, to spill blood and taste the adrenaline that came with it.

Their swords met above their heads, clashing together and reflecting the sunlight above away from them, and Technoblade twisted his entire body around to spin and strike again - low this time. He aimed for Illumina’s legs but the God was quick enough to counter, his sword blocking the blade just millimeters from his skin. Regardless of distance, it  _ was  _ blocked, and so Technoblade took a step back to draw Illumina towards the fire. It would do little more than serve as a distraction, but Illumina was taking no risks. He outstretched one hand of his own, water rising around the small hill they stood on to extinguish the flames at the base of the trees.

“Not exactly good sportsmanship, is it?” Technoblade quipped, reaching over his back with one hand into what was seemingly thin air, but drawing back a crossbow when it returned. “Two can play dirty.”

As Technoblade shot, Illumina teleported behind him and swung with his sword. He cut through the fabric of his clothing, the tip of the blade just  _ slightly  _ piercing his skin enough to cause blood to flow. But that was his mistake. His strike had injured, but hadn’t killed, and now Technoblade turned to face him with anger in his eyes. This wasn’t a game anymore, he wasn’t just here to have fun. He had a  _ job  _ to do and he wouldn’t lose to a God as pathetic as Illumina.

He threw the crossbow aside and turned to face Illumina, his grip on his sword now second to none as he brought strike after methodical strike down powerfully against the man, moving too quickly for him to keep up. He managed to block the first several hits with his sword, reaching for a shield when he realised that the onslaught wouldn’t end, and he ducked behind it. Three quick hits came to the wood before it began to splinter, the material buckling under the sheer force behind Technoblade’s swings. One more hit and it would break completely, and Illumina would be left entirely at Technoblade’s mercy - something he wasn’t sure the man actually possessed. He shifted his body, attacking again and swinging towards him, but Technoblade had anticipated the movement. Instead of aiming for his shield again he was waiting for Illumina to fight back, and when he removed himself from cover Technoblade lunged forwards with his own sword, the blade plunging deep into Illumina’s side. Even before he removed the weapon, crimson liquid began to drip to the ground and both men stared at the wound. 

The sound of the metal being unsheathed from his insides was sickly, an almost deafening squelch as his organs shifted back into place and blood began to pour onto his clothes and the ground beneath his feet. The amount of blood he was losing was concerning, but he was still standing and that meant the fight wasn’t over yet.

He raised his sword to continue to fight and Technoblade watched him with an air of amusement, tossing his sword between his hands as if to demonstrate just how  _ little  _ he was threatened by it all. But if Illumina died, then that was it.

The Overworld was  _ doomed _ .

# # # 

  
  


Skeppy was filled with utter  _ joy  _ when he saw Bad across the beach from them, his feet hitting the sand beneath them heavily as he ran. Before he even had time to approach the man and pull him into the tightest hug imaginable screams filled the air around them and a hoard of Endermen began to approach. Not just one or two, not a small number of troops that they’d been expecting to flank if they were lucky, but hundreds upon thousands of Endermen teleporting around them, closing off any land escape they might have had and backing the two halves of the army together once more. 

“I’m sorry we fought,” was all Skeppy managed to get out before the first attack came. It was Tommy, his stone axe coming down on an Enderman without a fear in the world. It wasn’t at all his fault, but the moment he did that  _ all hell broke loose _ .

Explosions rattled the sky, lightning set the forest aflame, and the Endermen began their assault. Their screams were loud, deafeningly so and all at once it was enough to incapacitate a number of soldiers: Illagers, Pigmen and Humans alike were struck by the noises that were made and that made them vulnerable. Those that were unable to fight through the sound were killed quickly, and while some had totems to cheat death it wasn’t enough. Dozens of soldiers died in the opening moments of battle, but it gave those that lived a reason to fight harder. 

Grunts and groans filled the beach as they began their attack, with gold swords making quick work of the Endermen as the Pigmen fought valiantly. When their blood spilled it was obvious to all - the others became far more aggressive in their actions and their screams of shared pain when one of their friends fell nearly rivalled the sound of the Endermen vworping. As the Illagers attacked, the Endermen often teleported away - the Vindicators were the most effective against them, though the Pillagers could still use their crossbows as a blunt instrument. The Evokers were, mostly, powerless. Instead of fighting they found themselves quickly filling a more supportive role, healing those that they could rather than leaving them to die slowly. It kept their numbers up just a little, it allowed them to keep going, but it put a target on their backs and soon the Endermen became wise enough to know who to focus on wiping out first. 

It was, once more, an utter massacre. Blood dripped red, green and purple onto the sand beneath their feet, being washed away only by the backwash of particularly strong waves. It didn’t keep the beach clean for long, new blood and more bodies replacing it as quickly as it was removed.

The Endermen were closing them in, closer and closer together, and before long there would be no room to fight, no room to do anything but accept the fate that was being delivered to them. Sapnap looked around at the destruction that surrounded him, his heart crashing in his chest. All of this bloodshed, all the horror and pain and loss, and for what?

The Overworld was doomed.

He glanced to his side and laid eyes on Skeppy and he found that an idea managed to force its way to the front of his mind. An idea that he had no idea if it would work, no knowledge is something similar had even been attempted before, but what else was there left to lose? He had to try, otherwise this war would be lost.

“Skeppy-” Sapnap said, grabbing the man’s attention and reaching out to tug at his wrist. “Come with me, I know what we have to do.”

Skeppy nodded, giving a cursory glance over the battlefield and calling out before he followed Sapnap towards the water.

“Tommy, Tubbo, help Bad. You’re in charge now.”

And with that, Skeppy squeezed through the ever tightening group of people and found himself promptly knee deep in water with Sapnap. He didn’t know what the man’s plan was, but now wasn’t the time to ask. He trusted him, and that was what was important. If he didn’t trust him then there was only one outcome.

The Overworld would be doomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> final chapter to put your death bets on, for no reason whatsoever... hope you're all ready!


	10. Courage & Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up (bad choice of words) - the decapitation tag comes into play this chapter. be careful!

Tommy brought an axe down onto a half dead Enderman, finishing it off with a grunt and turning his head swiftly to look over his shoulder. Tubbo was by his side,  _ thank God _ , and Bad wasn’t too far from them, and in the distance he could see Skeppy and Sapnap heading into the ocean. They were knee deep and making their way parallel to the coast but it wasn’t enough for Tommy to figure out what they were doing. As he watched, a blade came seemingly out of nowhere inches in front of his face and the sword impaled the chest of an Enderman that had crept up on him when he hadn’t been looking. His mouth fell open just a little at the suddenness of the movement, before he turned his head to look at Tubbo. The shorter man had a smile on his face, adrenaline keeping him on his toes.

“Keep a lookout.” Tubbo said. “I’m not always gonna be here for you.”

“Yeah, you are.” Tommy replied, though he was much more alert now. They were being backed closer and closer together, and while the death of their fellow soldiers  _ was  _ making the battleground less crowded it certainly wasn’t a good thing. The Endermen would soon have an advantage too many, and they’d be done for.

In the distance there was a sound of roaring, the Dragon catching the attention of the soldiers as it nosedived on the horizon. Whatever happened next was obscured by the mountains and forests, and they didn’t have time to distract themselves with such frivolous questions.

“We need to get out of here.” Tommy called, raising his voice to try and make himself heard over the sounds of fighting around them. Seeing an opportunity to get closer to Bad he ran, bending down to pick up a shield from one of the many corpses beneath his feet and using it to cover his back. “Bad, the water, c’mon.”

His friends didn’t need telling twice, and when the rest of the soldiers saw what they were doing they were quick to follow suit. Before too long they were all moving as fast as they could over sand and bodies to reach the ocean. The feeling of water soaking into their boots had once been one that would cause irritation, but now it filled them all with  _ relief _ . Water meant they were safe - so long as they were out of arms’ reach.

It brought the battle to an abrupt halt, silence replacing the cries of war as the Endermen stared at the soldiers from the relative safety of the sand. 

“Are we… Are we safe?” Tubbo asked quietly, turning to face Bad. “They can’t get us here, right?”

“Don’t look away from them, they could be planning something… We don’t know what’ll happen next.”

So the armies stood face to face, water lapping at the legs of the Overworld and a cold winter chill whistling through the Endermen. Was this how it would all end? An eternal face off? Surely, one side had to give eventually.

It would just be a case of who gave in first.

# # #

Wading through the water made progress slow, but Skeppy and Sapnap couldn’t risk returning to land. Sapnap was leading the way, not telling Skeppy where they were going, what his plan was, or what he needed him to do. He was still convincing himself that it was the right thing to do and that it would work, and the last thing he needed was for someone to be trying to tell him the opposite. Skeppy had asked persistently at first what they were getting themselves into, but Sapnap had told him enough times that he’d say when he needed to know. They soon found an estuary that fed into the ocean and followed the meanders of the river back inland. Eventually, when the sounds of battle disappeared, the two clambered out onto the riverbank and ran through the grass. They made better time like this, but didn’t stray too far from where they’d come in case they needed quick protection once more.

The village was in sight on the horizon, and with the Dragon in the sky now flying back the way they’d come they felt somewhat safe. They had a beacon to heal them if they were hurt, and they were far from danger, so they cut across the frozen fields and ran uphill. Instead of going towards the centre of the village itself, Sapnap was running towards the Nether portal, and Skeppy didn’t like not knowing where this was going.

“When am I going to get an explanation?” 

“Let’s get to the other side, we’ll be safe in there.”

That was all the acknowledgement Sapnap was giving Skeppy, the pair returning to silent running and not thinking twice as they approached the portal. Sapnap didn’t even slow down, jumping from several paces away and landing on the obsidian frame to save an extra few seconds.

And then, a moment later, they were in the Nether.

The heat of the realm was more noticeable than usual, warming their cold skin and drying their wet clothes and armour almost immediately. For once, Sapnap found that he didn’t particularly mind being in the hellscape that greeted them. He moved a few paces back, finding the blackstone wall of the bastion and leaning himself against it to catch his breath slowly while Skeppy sat on the ground beneath them and pulled out a few clumps of blue grass. 

“So?” Skeppy asked, and when Sapnap just glanced down to him without even beginning to reply he continued. “What’s going on? Why are we in the Nether? What’s your plan, Sapnap?”

“We need something to fight with us, right? Against Gods, against the Dragon, against all the Endermen… This war is killing all of us, there’s no way that we’re strong enough to take just it all as we are. We need something more.”

“I thought you said yourself that the Blaze wouldn’t be coming to help us - what are we going to find here that’s gonna take our side? Everything wants us  _ dead _ .”

“Yes, but there’s something that wants  _ everything _ dead…”

“Sapnap,  _ no _ \--”

“George and I have killed it before, we had to to make the beacon, we can do it-”

“A Wither? What makes you think it’s a good idea to bring a Wither into this mess?!”

Sapnap bit down on his bottom lip, holding himself back for a second and choosing his words carefully. “We don’t have much more of a choice. We can take it once it’s helped us, what else do we do? Just keep fighting a war we can’t win until we’re all dead?”

As much as Skeppy loathed to admit it, Sapnap had a point. They weren’t going to win from the position they were currently in, this was at least something  _ different _ , something that gave them a chance, and reluctantly he let his shoulders fall and nodded.

“We need soul sand and Wither skulls, quickly.” Sapnap said, and now that he had his breath back he walked away from the bastion and out towards a darker area they’d come across once before while exploring this new world. 

A soul sand valley, they’d called it. Hardly original, but the small patches of soul sand they’d seen when navigating the Nether months ago seemed to have grown and swarmed larger swaths of land, covering netherrack with sand soil and leaving it utterly barren. The area was different to the Nether they knew - usually filled with Skeletons and Ghasts - but everything was quiet today. As they walked, the fog that clung to the biome surrounded them and heeded their progress even more than the ground underfoot already did. Coming back would be a pain, especially if they needed to leave in a hurry.

Their way lit by blue flames, the pair eventually found themselves face to face with what they were looking for: a Fortress. It was dilapidated, the structure itself beginning to crumble, something that Sapnap could only attribute to the prophecy. Once the Overworld fell, he assumed the Nether would come next, and that it was just a matter of time before--

“Sapnap, look.”

Skeppy’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. He stopped walking, feeling himself sink a little deeper into the thick soil beneath his feet while he gazed towards Skeppy and saw where he’d stopped. There was a body - what was left of one, anyway. They couldn’t be sure how beings were supposed to decompose in the Nether, but the presence of fossils told them that they  _ did _ , eventually, turn to bone. The person before them was unlike someone they’d ever seen before, and even when they’d been in the village with thousands of new arrivals they’d been able to know when they’d seen a face before. This man wasn’t someone that had joined and fought with them, and the presumed age of his corpse told them that. The charred remains of blond hair and the blood staining the green clothing that he was wrapped in indicated a fight, one the man had clearly lost. If he hadn’t known better, part of Sapnap would have been convinced that it was Dream that lay before them. But the face was all wrong, and the green too dark to be that of his friend. Beside him was a sword, made of the same dark material that George’s had been made from, and Sapnap was quick to trade his own iron weapon for it. 

“What do you think happened to him?” Skeppy asked, shifting his weight between his feet.

“I’m not sure I want to know.” Sapnap replied, turning to look back towards the Fortress in front of them. “The sword’ll make this a lot easier, though. Come on, we can’t spend any more time doing this than we already have.”

Skeppy looked to Sapnap as he started to walk away from him, concerned that his friend might’ve been blocking out his emotions. Of course, adrenaline was keeping them both going now after a night without sleep, but he’d heard the story of how he’d lost his arm enough times. Bad was still wracked with guilt from it, and Skeppy had assured him time and time again that he’d done the right thing. He wondered if Sapnap was thinking this through properly, if perhaps this was just him subconsciously wanting revenge towards the Wither Skeletons for what they’d done to him, but he didn’t dare ask. Instead, Skeppy just followed Sapnap as they began to slowly walk up a dune of soul sand. 

“I’m going in on my own, no point risking both of our lives when this sword will make pretty quick work of anything that comes my way.”

“Sapnap--”

“Grab as much soul sand as you can, as soon as we get back to the Overworld we need to make this. We don’t know how much time we have.”   
  


With that, Sapnap turned away from Skeppy to indicate that this wasn’t up for a discussion, and looked at the Fortress before them, to try and find the best way in. He needed the entrance to be just as good of an exit, not wanting to stay in too long and wanting to be able to make a quick getaway when he needed to run. Eventually found a small, crumbling section of wall that was easily wide enough for him to climb through. When he did, he heard the sounds of his armour on the brick beneath his feet and began to feel a little more uncertain about being there alone. He held his shield tightly in his prosthetic hand, clinging to the handle and holding it close to his body - he just needed to hang on a little bit longer and then… Then  _ everything  _ would be okay. It had to be, right?

No mobs were in sight, and Sapnap decided to follow the left wall round the Fortress. It was the best way of making sure that he didn’t get lost, he couldn’t  _ afford  _ to be lost now. 

Each footstep he took was a step closer to ending this war once and for all, a step closer to  _ maybe  _ finding a way to save his friend, and it helped him quicken his pace. This was for Dream, it had always been for Dream, that’s how this whole thing had started and that was how it was going to end.

As he turned a corner he found himself face to face with two Wither Skeletons, his eyes suddenly wide open as he realised how perfect that was. But he needed them alone, the prospect of one attacking him while he killed the other at the forefront of his mind, and so as they turned their attention to him and began to approach he started to run back the way he’d come. He cursed not having Skeppy with him in that moment, the fog from the biome seeping into the Fortress and making it harder to see just how close the Wither Skeletons were, but he needed the time to steel himself against what he had planned. 

Following the left wall meant he now had to follow the right wall out, and he kept his fighting arm outstretched towards the brick to make sure he didn’t lose his way at any point. It meant he wasn’t holding a weapon, but he had no intention to strike just yet.

He heard the swish of a sword behind him, a small hit to his back that didn’t quite puncture his armour reminding him that he wasn’t out of harm's way. He swore under his breath, looking back to see the two Wither Skeletons almost appearing closer than before, and he began to run faster. His feet were hammering against the ground and he heard the Skeleton’s behind him speeding up, too. He knew he count outrun them and he needed to strike a difficult balance - run fast enough not to be caught, but slow enough not to outrun them,

He needed Skeppy to be there, needed him to divert the attention of one of the Skeleton’s away and behead it and head back to the portal. He could take the other one back,  _ it would work _ . 

Skidding around one final corner he found himself in the corridor he’d entered from, the familiar broken wall on his right. He took one quick glance over his shoulder to ensure that he was still being followed by the Wither Skeletons and when he was sure that they were both still there, he continued on his way. Sapnap wasn’t particularly careful as he jumped over the bricks that lay on the ground, instead just trying to leap as quickly as he could and allowing the soul soil to break his fall. He landed on his side, on his shoulder, and quickly flexed his metal fingers just to make sure that nothing had gotten into the circuits of his arm. Not that it would matter too much before too long, anyway. 

“Skeppy!” Sapnap called. “Changed my mind, a little help would be nice!”

He scrambled to his feet, beginning to back away slowly from the Wither Skeletons that approached him, the sword now in his right hand and ready to fight if he needed to. If he killed them both, so be it, but he’d need to head back into the Fortress then and he’d rather  _ not  _ if he could help it. As he stepped back tentatively he felt his foot sink a little further than he was used to in the soil and he looked behind him. Slowly but surely he was coming to the end of a precipice, and below was a  _ long  _ fall down to lava. If he was going to die today, that wasn’t how he was going to go.

“Oi!” 

He heard a cry, both his and the Wither Skeleton’s attention switching to look around to the young man that shouted. With his blue hoodie on show beneath his iron chestplate it was impossible to miss Skeppy in an environment like this, and the momentary distraction gave Sapnap a chance to run. With a laugh he ducked between the monsters, running quickly towards where Skeppy stood with a grin on his face.

“You take one, I’ve got the other, we’ll meet back in the Overworld. Be careful.”

Skeppy nodded, and with the two of them holding their swords and shields they ran in opposite directions - Skeppy towards the portal and Sapnap away from it. He’d loop around, he knew the way back, and a cursory look over his shoulder confirmed that one of the Wither Skeletons was indeed following him. At least that made this a little bit easier. He’d give Skeppy enough time to behead his and return to the Overworld safely before he ventured through the portal, knowing that for his plan to work he needed to be back in the village.

God, if this didn’t work then his friends were going to kill him.

He ran up every dune he could see, wanting to get above the fog and position himself to get a good vantage point before making his way back to the portal. Around half way up he could see the tops of the bastion and the blackstone wall that had been erected, and he could see something else. Beyond the soul sand valley, dotted in between the blue grass, the curious mushrooms, and the strange warped plants that seemed to be beginning to grow, he saw clusters of Endermen.  _ That  _ filled him with panic. The Nether was supposed to be safe from invasion, the fighting was supposed to be taking place in the Overworld. He supposed it made sense - the portals themselves weren’t guarded and anyone could come through if they chose to do so - but it presented a new challenge. He needed to get back to the Overworld, Wither Skeleton in tow, without being spotted by Endermen. 

It couldn’t have been any easier, really.

Sapnap looked back at his immediate surroundings and found that the Wither Skeleton too was looking at the Endermen. Maybe that  _ was  _ where the mobs in the realm had gone, maybe they really  _ did  _ know the prophecy and were acutely aware that it was coming true. While everything had come to a halt, Sapnap moved just a little further up the slope and watched the portal by the bastion to see any activity. Maybe the Endermen would spot Skeppy, or he’d sneak through unnoticed -  _ something  _ would tell him when it was safe for him to head back down. 

It felt like an eternity, waiting. Every so often he would have to run a little way when the Wither Skeleton’s focus returned to him, but he made sure to keep the portal in sight. It meant that the moment he saw Skeppy walk through he could take in a breath and put his plan into action. 

He raised his sword, closed his eyes and sent one last prayer to any deities not currently tied up in war, and swung. The netherite blade cut through the Wither Skeleton’s arm with ease, the appendage falling to the ground and the monster now watching Sapnap closely. For a moment there was a standoff, both facing each other with swords held tightly, waiting for the other to strike, and then Sapnap decided not to risk standing still and began to run.

He used the dunes to his advantage, and as soon as he had a good amount of speed built up he let his legs buckle and fell - landing ungracefully on his backside and sliding down the sandy dunes. He shifted his body and moved his shield beneath him to help him to slide faster, and it kept him decently ahead of the Wither Skeleton that was running after him. He watched the Endermen near the wall, though he kept his gaze low to avoid disturbing them if they turned their heads his way. For now they seemed more interested in disassembling the structure rather than causing him any harm, and so he used his free hand to start unclipping his chestplate. He had one shot of this, it had to work absolutely seamlessly. 

Getting to his feet when he reached the bottom of the slope, the chestplate fell to the ground with a heavy crash and he used the time he’d gained to slip out of his boots and his leggings. The Wither Skeleton had almost caught up to him at that point and he began to run again, the ground beneath his feet turning from soul sand to netherrack to grass, and with the added traction now beneath him he could run faster. He could do this, he could make it, the portal was so  _ damn  _ close.

Tossing his helmet aside, he came to a stop, his metal fingers reaching to cling to the portal frame. Being able to hold his way home grounded him, gave him a feeling of safety, and he watched as the Wither Skeleton continued to approach. Pull it through, take the hit, remove it’s head. That was all he needed to do, just a few more moments and--

The monster raised its sword, readying itself to attack, but Sapnap blocked with his own blade. In the moment he had where it  _ couldn’t  _ hurt him he let go of the frame and instead grabbed the dark bones of the Wither Skeleton, jumping into the purple portal and pulling the creature with him. It seemed that, for now, he had another advantage on his side. It was  _ confused  _ and hadn’t moved back for another hit just yet, but he swore that was the reason that it took so long for the portal to take them both through to the other side.

As soon as unbearable heat became freezing cold air he jumped to the left and pulled the monster with him, the movement enough for its sword to fall. Its blade cut through the thin fabric of his shirt and he felt a surge of pain in his chest. 

“Sapnap!”

Skeppy’s voice kept him in the moment, and he raised his own sword quickly. Bringing it across in front of him, he removed the creature’s skull with one foul swoop and as it collapsed to the ground, dead, and the skull rolled a little way from his feet, Sapnap dropped his own sword and stumbled forwards. His body was trembling, he could feel the poison travelling through him, but he wasn’t getting any weaker. The beacon was keeping him alive even if it couldn’t stop the withering effect taking over him. The strike to the chest had been particularly dangerous - it had hit an artery, the poison quick to seep into his blood and carry around his entire body faster than when he’d lost his arm.

“Sapnap, where’s your armour?! What were you thinking?!” Skeppy was by his side in a moment, his bag, shield and weapons dropped to the ground and forgotten as his hands came to hold his friend’s shoulders. Sapnap’s eyes had almost immediately glassed over with pain, and despite Skeppy holding him he was leaning heavily to the side, almost rendered totally useless. He was alive, he  _ wasn’t  _ dying, but Skeppy could see his skin starting to take on a faint grey as the poison travelled through him. It was easiest to spot on his neck, where the veins themselves seemed to be turning almost pitch black and the skin beginning to dry out and flake away before his very eyes, and yet through it all he was still  _ alive _ .

“Skeppy…”

Sapnap’s voice was riddled with pain, his eyes squeezing tightly shut as he tried to fight through it just enough to get his words out. It meant that he couldn’t see the pain in Skeppy’s face, the tears that had started flowing from his eyes both in fear and in hurt. He didn’t know how to fix this, didn’t know if he  _ could  _ fix this or if there even was anything to be fixed, but as he felt Sapnap’s shoulders turn to dust beneath his fingertips he found himself standing back several paces. He was too afraid to hold him, to comfort him: how could he comfort someone that was disappearing before him?

As the skin on his face began to turn ashy, tightening around his skull as the liquid in his body vaporized and his cells began to die, he managed to spit out a few more words.

“ _ Use my head _ .”

Skeppy was shaking even more than before. His head?  _ Use his head?!  _ His mind was moving through a thousand different thoughts, and he was acutely aware of the one  _ demanding  _ to know if this act of stupidity had been Sapnap’s plan all along. To sacrifice himself? To trade his life for countless others in a way that might not even work. What had even  _ given  _ him this thought in the first place?

But those thoughts were far too detailed and coherent for Skeppy to properly process in that moment, and there was no chance he’d be able to get the words out. Instead, tears continued to fall, nausea filled him as his stomach twisted into knots, and he stared at the man before him.

“What will that  _ do, _ Sapnap?”

“My body, what’s left of it, is  _ withered _ . Use my head to make a Wither, if my thoughts are still there I could… Maybe it’ll know who to go after.”

Sapnap’s body settled on the ground. His arms were gone, his extremities turning to dust before the rest of him as his feet began to follow a similar fate.  _ “Please _ …”

Skeppy’s mouth was ajar, staring at his friend before him. He should be dead, he should be  _ long  _ dead rather than still alive, conscious and suffering through every second of this torment. Skeppy shouldn’t have to stand and watch him like this - shouldn’t have to make the choice.

Kill him, use his head, take a chance on a plan that might never work, or watch him slowly turn to ash and fade away, his death rendered completely and utterly pointless. 

“Why have you  _ done this _ , we could’ve found another way!”

“ _ Please Skeppy _ .”

Skeppy felt a sob bubbling over his lips, the air forcing its way from his lungs and his knees beginning to shake. He had to do this, he  _ had  _ to do this. Sapnap was suffering,  _ killing him was a kindness _ .

He reached for his diamond sword on the ground, fingers trembling and struggling to wrap around the hilt of the weapon. It felt like it took an eternity, but in reality it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.

_ He had to do this _ .

The blade felt so much heavier than it’d ever felt before. It took both hands wrapping around it to be able to lift it even to his side, let alone above his head, yet he knew he had to. If he failed to cut Sapnap’s head off in one go he could only  _ imagine  _ the pain he’d be in - and he wanted to keep that thought as far from reality as possible. 

_ He had to do this _ .

Sapnap would never get to say goodbye to his friends: to George, or to Bad, or to Dream. They would all  _ blame him  _ for his death, and Skeppy would never truly be able to wash the blood from his hands. Even if this was a mercy he should’ve been more persistent in asking about the plan, he should’ve found a way to  _ force  _ him to tell him the truth of what he was going to do, he should have  _ stopped it _ .

_ He had to do this _ .

“Sapnap, I’m so sorry.” His words were barely even words, tears and sobs flowing so freely now that he knew the moment the act was completed he would be on the ground, incapable of processing the events that had just happened. He needed Bad, he needed  _ someone  _ to tell him that everything was going to be okay even though it really  _ wasn’t _ .

“I’m sorry too.” Sapnap said. “Sorry I made you do this.”

Skeppy didn’t hear his words, didn’t see the totem of undying roll from his belt as his body sagged further as he disappeared faster and faster. He only had one thing left to do. He had to kill Sapnap. Through his blurred vision he could barely even see the man in question, or the way that his eyes squeezed tightly shut when Skeppy raised his sword. 

As he brought his weapon down quickly he found that there was very little resistance, that the wither effect running through Sapnap’s body had decimated everything that made him Human, that it was only through the power of the beacon he was still alive. He swore that he heard the snapping sound of nerves as his blade cut through, and the crunch of brittle bones being split by the sword. When he heard the sound of a soft  _ thud  _ against grass, and felt the blade travelling through air once more, he let go. 

Skeppy crumbled beside Sapnap, his arms moving to wrap tightly around his stomach. Adrenaline was gone, he had  _ nothing  _ to keep him going anymore. 

Sapnap was dead, and he had done it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #moonieisoverparty ?????


	11. Dark Horizons & The End of an Era

When Eret came to, it was quick. His body jerked upright, the tapestries lain across him falling to the ground as his eyes snapped open and his mind rushed to fill the gaps in his memory. He’d been struck down by lightning at Dream’s hand - Dream had most likely gotten away, but who had brought him here? How had he lived? Where  _ was  _ he?

Right now, did any of that even matter?

The cold air around him helped to ground him quickly, a chill seeping into his bones from the moment the fabric covering him had shifted. He hadn’t  _ forgotten  _ anything, he knew he was in a war and he  _ knew  _ whose side he was fighting on, the time between could be filled in later but for now he just needed to hope he wasn’t too late. He had to be able to help.

As he forced himself to his feet he felt his body aching, his muscles were weak but he pushed through the slowness that seemed to cling to him and blinked hurriedly to push aside the dizziness he felt. While he got used to the sensation of being on his own two feet once more, he grabbed his helmet from the ground beside the pew he’d been resting on and felt for his weapons at his side. Content that whoever had moved him hadn’t robbed him - that he still had what he needed to fight - Eret was quick to turn and find the exit from the church. 

The light of day was almost blinding in itself, and the beacon made it so much more intense. He squinted against the sky as he tried to position himself and figure out where the battle was taking place when he heard a cry of both sorrow and hurt. Someone was  _ here _ . The cry was distinctly Human - an ally - and Eret moved swiftly through the narrow streets of the village to find the person the cry belonged to. The man was close to the beacon itself, curled up with a bloody diamond sword at his side and the withering remains of a corpse beside him. The body was missing a head - a head that had rolled a few paces away - and there were two Wither skulls beside the survivor. Something here looked to have gone horribly wrong.  _ He could still help _ .

“Is everything alright?”

It was a stupid question, one that Eret found himself cringing inwardly at, but he wasn’t entirely sure there  _ was  _ a question he should ask in this situation. It had been more to break the tension, to let the other person know someone else was there, and to give the man a chance to explain what he saw.

“He told me to use his  _ head _ .” 

Skeppy’s reply was tearful as he looked up to the man before him. Despite wearing the same dark armour, he wasn’t George, but he made no move to kill so he found himself trusting the stranger. Not that he’d have taken any real issue with someone coming to kill him at that moment. It would’ve taken away the pain of what he’d done, the sickness and the hatred and the voice screaming in his mind that he should have been able to do something more. But the man looked at him like he wanted him to continue and so he spoke again. 

“To make a Wither to help take out Technoblade. He thinks… He  _ thought  _ if we used his head that he’d be able to control the Wither.”

Eret knew the other man was suffering, that he was in pain, but the sound of a plan gave him so much  _ hope  _ that he hoped the moment of glee in his eyes was missed by the other. The promise of a way to kill his father… A way to  _ end  _ all of this. 

“We ought to try, then.” He said, choosing the words he spoke to the stranger carefully. “Otherwise his death was in vain. I can help you.”

“Who  _ are  _ you?” Skeppy asked, the tiniest part of him managing to think of something logical to say as his sobs began to wane. He needed, for now, to push everything aside. The emotions could come out when everything was over.

“My name is Eret, the son of Technoblade, and I promise you I want to stop that man more than anyone else.” Eret replied, not wanting to lie. It felt  _ wonderful  _ to be able to say that - to have rejected his father’s plan. He was on the right side of history now, no matter what the fallout would be, and he offered his hand to Skeppy without hesitation. Skeppy couldn’t tell if trusting the man was necessarily going to be the best move he could make, especially when he proclaimed his relation to the God they were trying to kill, but it was the only choice he had right now. He couldn’t do this alone, the pain of killing Sapnap still too fresh and too raw to even consider standing without help. So, swallowing, he moved one of his arms away from himself and let his hand clasp with Eret’s. He was pulled to his feet by Eret and watched as a determined smile spread across his face, like he knew everything was going to be alright.

Maybe, just maybe, Skeppy would allow himself to believe that was the case.

# # #

The struggle between Dream and George had gone back and forth several times over as they fought on the back of the Dragon. Dream wanted to kill, George wanted to bring the Dream he knew back whatever the cost, and they had reached a stalemate. There wasn’t much room to maneuver and it kept the two men from doing anything particularly bold, though it hadn’t stopped attempts. George’s sword had been taken by Dream and for a short while he’d possessed two swords - killing George should have been easy - but one had been lost as the Dragon had nosedived towards the ground to try and shake the half dozen Ghasts from her tail. They couldn’t move as fast, and for now it seemed to have worked. The two had barely remained atop the creature as she began to soar once more - wings flapping as she rose over the forest. Ahead - in the distance - there was the standoff on the beach with the army of the Overworld knee deep in water and the Endermen watching on for a moment to strike. A little closer, though off to the East, a fire raged through the dead expanse of trees. Illumina and Techno fought there, the destruction from the battle of the Gods causing widespread damage to the land around them.

It would have been easy to be distracted by the sight, though as George jumped back over the spikes of the Dragon’s spine he saw something else behind them. The horizon appeared to be refracting - the image George could see like that above a cobblestone path on a hot day. Except instead of heat causing the world to appear wavy there was just a black line, tiny, something he could almost  _ swear  _ he was hallucinating. It would make sense, with everything that was going on, that his body and mind would eventually begin to break apart at the seams.

But Dream had stopped fighting - he’d seen it too - and  _ that  _ was enough to concern George. It was real, whatever it was, and he had a horrible feeling that it was all part of Technoblade’s plan.

“He didn’t tell you about this, did he Dream?” George asked, turning his head to the side and looking at the man he loved. While Dream didn’t look back, George could see the pain in his eyes, hidden by a layer of hatred and anger. His silence was deafening, the thoughts unspoken obvious and George wanted to  _ beg  _ him to speak them. He wanted to believe that Dream was still in there, that he could save him, that together they could overcome Technoblade. “You don’t have to do this, there’s still time. Whatever he’s done to you we can  _ help _ , we can  _ stop this _ . Please Dream, come with me.”

George held out his hand for the younger man, dark Endflesh desperately searching for Dream. 

He didn’t feel the warmth of skin against his, though. Instead he felt a sharp sensation in his side. A netherite blade was plunged deep into him, forcing its way through his armour and twisting and turning to cut and displace whatever organs it could find. George didn’t have the time to react audibly or the strength to fight back. Instead, his face spoke for him. Heartbreak in his eyes, Dream’s actions made the fact that he had  _ no  _ intentions of leaving Technoblade’s side very clear. George’s body felt light, warm blood pooling where the sword had pierced his skin, and he saw Dream turn to him with a murderous glee in his eyes. Dream was gone, Technoblade’s control over him was complete, and there wasn’t an inkling of remorse in his body. Yet, despite it all, George  _ couldn’t  _ strike him down.

“Dream--” George blinked a few times, his mouth tasting of iron as blood began to rise from his throat. It dripped down over his lips and chin slowly, his tongue poking out to swipe away what he could. He could’ve panicked, maybe he should have panicked. Maybe, if he panicked, he would have been searching for a way out: maybe he’d have fought back and protected the Overworld from the man before him. But he didn’t, he just stared at the man sadly and felt his strength leaving him. 

He swayed as the Dragon lurched to the side, and without the energy to hold himself upright the only thing that kept him from falling was the fact that he was still impaled on Dream’s sword. Dream knew that too, it was the reason for the smirk on his face, and he reached out with his other arm to hold George by his throat while he slowly pulled away the blade. His fingers dug into the man’s Endflesh, nipping at his airways and cutting off his breathing as blood began to pour more readily from his wounds. He was bleeding out quickly, and at the rate he was going he wouldn’t last much longer. It didn’t matter, Dream wasn’t going to give him the option.

“You were always a coward, die like you  _ deserve _ .”

With that he let go, and he raised his leg to kick George from the Dragon’s back and start his long fall down towards the ground. Maybe, if he was particularly unlucky, he would be impaled on a tree below. Maybe he’d land in water and his body would suffer slowly - torturing him until he died.

It didn’t matter to Dream what happened to him. He knew, no matter where he landed, he was dead.

Dream looked back towards the horizon - taking in the black line he could see and trying to ignore the concern that settled in his stomach. For now he had a job to do, to take out the remains of the Overworld’s army. It shouldn’t be too hard, they were all in one place. Except something changed at that moment.

There was a deafening boom from the heavens above, thunder cracking and echoing in the landscape that surrounded him as clouds rolled in overhead and the sky turned an ominous, sickly green. He could sense the wind picking up speed and found himself clinging tightly to the back of the Dragon to avoid falling. Beneath him, the trees were bending with each gust and branches were snapping away. He knew what was happening, and he didn’t  _ like  _ it one little bit. Gritting his teeth he turned his focus back to the beach ahead of him, just a minute or two longer and he’d be able to attack. He had a minute or two, right?

# # #

Despite the intensity of their fight, Illumina and Technoblade both came to a halt at the sound of thunder around them. Neither of them had summoned it - it was something else entirely - and as the sky was coloured grey and green above their heads there was only one thing that it could mean. Neither of their faces were readable, neither giving away how they truly felt about the appearance of such a beast to the other for fear it would provide a tactical advantage. 

The explosion, though distant, carried through the ruined landscape and they heard the echoes of the noise as the bright beam from the beacon disappeared. 

_ They’d spawned a Wither. _

Aware of the blood already dripping down from his wound and knowing that Technoblade had an advantage over him already, Illumina played dirty. He used his opponent’s moment of distraction to swing his blade toward him, netherite cutting through Technoblade’s cloak and shirt, digging deeply along his arm and causing blood to seep from the wound hurriedly. Not quite the stab to the heart he’d been looking for, but already beginning to weaken Illumina would  _ take  _ what he could get. It was enough for Technoblade to focus his attention on the God once again, raising his eyebrows as if to ask if that were all the fight he still had left in him. In response, Illumina growled, and Technoblade unclipped his cloak and shrugged it aside - the garment being carried away in the Wither’s wind.

“It was getting in the way, anyway.” He said, his face filling with a smirk once more. “You’re weak, you know damn well you can’t take me, why don’t you give up now?”

Illumina knew he was right. He  _ was  _ weak, he  _ couldn’t  _ defeat Technoblade, but he’d do a damn good job trying and wouldn’t go out without a fight. Wiping a little blood from his face with the back of his hand he gripped his sword tighter, positioning himself to launch another attack, when a heavy thud and behind him caught his attention. Illumina looked back over his shoulder and Technoblade peered around him, a grin spreading across his face and a laugh forcing its way from his chest.

“Oh,  _ Illumina,  _ it really must be time for you to give up.”

“Herobrine?” Illumina whispered, forgetting about the battle and dropping his sword as he ran quickly to the body of his grandson. His feet barely gained any traction at first, as if the Universe wanted to torture him one last time before he could reach the side of the boy he had come to love. Whatever had happened, Illumina should have been there to protect him. He hadn’t been there for his daughter, and now he was slowly but surely losing the last few connections he had to her. These wars were pointless, and while Technoblade had never managed to lay claim to the Overworld or the Nether he had slowly but surely taken more and more from Illumina every time the prophecy came to pass.

Illumina hadn’t seen where George had fallen from but he knew damn well it was too high. His armour was cracked and bloody, and completely still as he remained unmoving and unbreathing where he’d landed. 

“You’ve lost. Come on,  _ admit it _ , the Overworld is mine.”

“Your son is  _ dead! _ ” Illumina yelled, making no attempt to hold back the pain in his voice. “Isn’t there even the tiniest part of you that cares for what you’ve lost?”

“Herobrine was a traitor, his life meant nothing to me.”

Illumina was tempted to rush back into battle with the God again, to channel his pain into rage and fury and unleash every bit of strength he had left against him, to burn down the realm they stood in  _ just  _ to find victory over him. And yet he couldn’t leave the side of his grandson, couldn’t bear to tear himself away from the young God beside him. He had lost so much already - what good was protecting the Overworld if he spent another few tens of thousands of years alone? 

“George…” He said quietly. “Please, come back.”

Technoblade readied himself to attack. It would be  _ so easy  _ to plunge his sword through Illumina’s chest while he was distracted. It might not be  _ honourable  _ but who gave a damn about honour in war? 

“I would say that you were a good fighter, Illumina, but I wouldn’t lie to a man before killing him.” Technoblade said, boots heavy as they crushed the frostbitten ground beneath him. “You certainly helped pass the time.  _ Thank you _ .”

The sound of the Wither flew overhead, followed by slow moving Ghasts towards the coastline stalemate, and Technoblade used that moment to strike. With grief consuming Illumina it was easy to take his time to line up his sword perfectly, only forcing the blade through his body when he was certain he would hit all the right nerves and organs to kill him. He savoured the sound his sword made as he felt Illumina stop moving, pulling his sword back slowly as he watched the old God fall forwards and land atop Herobrine. 

It was perfect - oh so  _ perfect _ \- and he sheathed his bloody sword as his side as he turned away from them. A little cut on his arm wasn’t enough to sour his mood now.

The Overworld would be  _ his _ .

# # #

Sapnap was aware of what was happening.

He could hear the sounds of Ghast’s chasing the Wither, even though they couldn’t quite keep up, and could feel the heat of their projectiles as they narrowly passed by. He had been aware of this since he’d come to above the world, but his mind had been struggling more than he’d imagined. He hadn’t thought about the implications of waking up in a body that wasn’t his, coming to terms with the change of limbs and the powers that he couldn’t control. He hadn’t expected to feel so distant from the world around him, and while his thoughts clearly  _ were  _ having some impact on the movement of the creature it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t control it entirely, he was part of a system now, and that worried him greatly. The plan to use the Wither with finesse and precision had quickly dissolved. 

All he could do was  _ hope  _ that it would work out alright. And hoping hadn’t been working particularly well for them so far.

It was too late to go back now.

Sapnap could see the world beneath him as the Wither flew towards the ocean - he watched as something fell from the Dragon and landed in the destroyed forest below, he saw fire raging in the distance, lighting up the dark sky above, and he could see the beach before him with his friends just a little way in the water. His  _ friends _ . He had no idea what he looked like - if his skull was now completely withered or if they’d still be able to recognise him. He hoped, for their sake, that they wouldn’t know. He hoped that they wouldn’t have to see him like this. 

As he came closer and closer to the Dragon he could make out the man on top, the man standing with a sword in his hand, ready to fight. 

_ Dream _ .

He needed to save Dream, maybe he could target the Dragon when he was over water and then maybe - if he fell - he’d survive and could return to shore. Someone could find a way to save him. There were too many  _ maybes  _ for Sapnap to feel comfortable, too many variables that he couldn’t control. This was all down to chance as to whether or not his plan worked, and even if it  _ did  _ Sapnap wouldn’t be there to see it.

Sapnap then realised the implications of what he’d done.

He’d  _ never _ live to find out. He’d never know if Dream was going to return to stand at their side, never see him smile or hear him laugh again. All the plans they’d made for the future - their adventures, their creations - it had all been for nothing. Their talks of tomorrow would remain just that.  _ Talks _ . And maybe Dream would go on to live all those plans, maybe he’d have George by his side and be happy. Maybe this would be something they’d  _ laugh about  _ one day, when they grew old together.

But Sapnap would never be there.

It hurt, it hurt more than being withered did, and it hurt so much more than begging Skeppy to behead him. The true cost of his actions spread before him was so much more than he thought it could have ever been. But if it was enough to give Dream a  _ chance  _ of the happy life that they’d thought about together then it was more than worth it to him.

Dream was his best friend, his brother, the person he loved more than anyone else in the realm: he would do this a dozen times over for Dream if that’s what it took.

As the Wither got closer, Sapnap focused on his plan. Target the Dragon, not Dream. He didn’t know how he was supposed to communicate with the other heads - or if he even  _ could _ \- and his heart, or what felt like his heart, was racing. 

“Dream--” He whispered, his voice caught by the wind and carried away into nothingness as the heads either side of him began to shoot skulls towards the pair. Sapnap couldn’t tell what they’d targeted, but both hits landed and the blast from them affected both Dream and the Dragon.

The Dragon shook her body and let out a pained cry, her breath spilling from her lips onto the ground beneath and causing chaos as she flew out over the ocean. One of the Wither’s heads spat out another skull - this time aimed towards the crowds below - and both armies began to flee. Sapnap could see most of the Endermen leaving to take cover in the forest, and while some of the Humans and Pigmen had made their way back onto dry land to run he could see two figures hopping over the cobblestone islands below. 

He looked back to the Dragon. Dream was barely holding on now, substantially weakened by the two explosions that had hit him and left him dangling high above the ocean.

If he fell now, surely he  _ couldn’t  _ live. Surely the impact on the ocean would be enough to finish him off. But maybe he had a Totem of Undying, maybe Technoblade had given him something else that kept him from dying, maybe there was a solution. There had to be a solution, this  _ had  _ to end happily for someone, all of this couldn’t be completely in vain - could it?

He heard the heads beside him shooting again - one narrowly missing Dream and the other shooting down below. While the explosion missed the two figures running it hit the water and it pushed fountains high into the sky, catching the bottom of Dream’s body and causing him to try to pull himself back atop the Dragon. She was still in pain, still shaking, trying to get rid of what she now saw as the parasite on her back. The figures running below were drenched as water came back down atop them, but they continued to run further out into the ocean. 

And then, with one last skull exploding against the Dragon, Dream finally let go.

From this distance Sapnap couldn’t see if his eyes were open. Perhaps he was still conscious, still alive, and there was hope that he could orient himself in the right direction to try and lessen the blow of the impact. He could return to shore, be found and saved…

The Dragon spat her breath at the Wither and Sapnap felt the same pain that the rest of the creature did - letting out a cry as it began to retreat and fly away from the monster. The heads beside him shot towards the Ghasts that had slowly made their way towards the battle, skulls and fireballs meeting in the air and causing huge explosions. The Wither was soon over land once more, losing altitude and flying close to the tops of the trees that caught fire with the fallout of the explosions as the Wither sought out yet more opponents. There was nothing he could do to control it completely, his plan had been utterly wasted. He couldn’t save his friends like this, he was only going to cause more destruction and pain. 

He thought as hard as he could to will the Wither to fly away, to fly  _ higher  _ or to engage with the Ghast’s rather than the people below, but the creature’s instincts overrode his thoughts. All he could hope for now was that the Wither could be destroyed without the Overworld losing too much in the fight against it. He didn’t care about what that meant for him - the pain that he might experience as his friends killed him once more - he was a dead man already and this war was far more important than him. In the meantime he would do everything in his power to find a way to keep them safe from the beast that he was part of. But as the heads beside him shot skulls in every direction - causing dirt and debris to fly high into the sky and tumble back down on Endermen, Human, and Pigman bodies below - he realised that he wasn’t going to have much success.

With no knowledge of the losses that the Overworld had already suffered, he clung to the tiny slither of hope that he still possessed. This  _ wouldn’t  _ all be in vain. Someone would win,  _ something  _ would be okay.

It had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are looking good for the overworld right about now, huh? to the people that have said that they've thought of an au where technoblade wins, how much of an au do you really think that is right now???
> 
> also, now that we're coming to the end of the manhunt trilogy (only three chapters left :O) i'm deciding on what to write next. i've narrowed it down to four options which i've summarised & added to a twitter poll here - you've got a week to vote & let me know what you'd like to see next!! https://twitter.com/amooniesong/status/1305164513214332931


	12. The Turning Tide & The New Heroes

With every step Eret took back towards battle, it became easier. His body ached less, his muscles put up less of a fight, and his mind focused. The man beside him - Skeppy - had pushed aside the worst of his trauma and was keeping good pace. They left behind the village - Skeppy grabbing the Totem of Undying from Sapnap’s body at the last moment before the Wither had come to life and destroyed the beacon and the area around them. Thankfully, it hadn’t been needed, but the singed tips of Skeppy’s hair were a reminder of just how close he’d come.

The flat fields around them soon became forest, and their progress slowed. They could tell from the fires raging in the distance that there’d been a fight here - they could be ambushed by survivors and outnumbered easily. Sure, Eret was powerful, but even  _ he  _ could be taken out if he was up against enough people.

The ground beneath their feet crunched, frozen blades of grass covered in a thin layer of ash. If it weren’t for the fires the world would have been almost pitch black from the dense smoke and the dark clouds that came with the Wither: with the beacon gone the world was much darker and much more dangerous. 

It was hard to tell what kind of battle had been fought here. There were no bodies in sight - no Endermen, no Human or Pigmen to be seen - and as Eret leapt to the conclusion that it could have been his  _ father  _ that had caused this destruction he tensed. He  _ would  _ take down Technoblade, no matter what it took, he couldn’t let that monster win.

“Eret?” Skeppy asked, his voice quiet. Eret shushed him quickly, not wanting to have any attention brought to them, but Skeppy just asked again.

“Eret, I found--”

Eret stopped then. He turned to look at Skeppy, who was frozen in place all over again. His eyes were wide, as if he were reliving the events of not too long ago, and when Eret’s gaze fell to the bodies on the ground, several paces away, he realised that it must have been a friend. This poor man had lost so much in the last few hours, but the guilt on his shoulders would be making that harder to bear. If Eret continued on towards the fight he was certain Skeppy would be a lost cause, and despite the fact that he knew  _ plenty  _ of mortals had already died that day he didn’t want to add to the tally.

“Skeppy…” He said carefully, moving to close the distance between the two of them. It was then, as he slowly paced towards the man, that he was in a position to see the faces of both bodies and to piece together their identities.

They  _ weren’t  _ just Skeppy’s friends, it wasn’t just someone that he’d lost that was bringing back his trauma. It was--

“-- _ Herobrine?”  _ He whispered, and Skeppy managed to tear his eyes from the sorry state of the pair in time to see Eret’s face fall. No,  _ he’d seen this once before _ , he  _ knew  _ George was okay because when the battle had first started he’d been like this and he’d been  _ fine _ . He’d been unconscious, he was just unconscious again… Right?

In his moment of panic, Eret forgot about his plans to comfort Skeppy, to face his father and end the war, and he fell to his knees and moved the body that lay atop his brother aside as carefully as possible. He recognised Illumina, and in the back of his mind he knew that Illumina  _ and  _ George being dead was nothing but bad news for the Overworld, but all he could think of in that moment was his brother.

With Illumina placed beside him as respectfully as he could manage, Eret looked at the brother that lay on the ground in front of him. His eyes were closed, his chest was still, blood had pooled at his side… But he  _ had  _ to be alive. After everything, this  _ couldn’t  _ be goodbye. He’d never even had the chance to properly say  _ hello _ . 

Nausea hit Eret like a brick and he brought his hands up to remove his helmet before he shakily reached forwards for his brother’s body and pulled him close. Even with armour on, George seemed smaller than him, and the legend that  _ Herobrine  _ was almost seemed unreal. Herobrine was supposed to be stronger than anything, a God that could command armies and fight wars single handedly - he  _ wasn’t  _ supposed to be dead from what appeared to be nothing more than a simple stab wound. 

At some point between taking off his helmet and cradling George close to his chest, Eret had begun to cry. He was aware of it only because his vision was blurred, and as he squeezed his eyes shut he felt his face stinging painfully. He didn’t care about the pain - how was he supposed to care?  _ George was the only family he had left _ and his absence weighed heavily in his chest, the pain only comparable to his own heart refusing to beat. Eret moved one hand carefully behind George’s head and ran his fingers through his hair. With his eyes still shut he used his free hand to try and map the feeling of his cheeks beneath his fingers, trying to memorise a face he’d barely ever seen before as his mind tried  _ desperately  _ to think of a way out of this. He could use his own powers, he  _ knew  _ that his father had brought people back to life before, but it wasn’t a skill he’d been taught. He presumed that the knowledge had been omitted for this exact reason and while he could  _ try  _ he didn’t know where to begin, or how to begin, and could cause something far worse to happen to this realm or even to George if he failed. 

“Hero,  _ please _ , you’re my brother, you  _ can’t _ \--” 

The words erupted from his lips uncontrollably, though the moment he opened his mouth sobs fought to escape alongside them and what came out was utterly unintelligible. To Skeppy, or to any other onlooker, he would’ve looked like a madman.

“Please wake up.”

Faint sounds of violence were growing in the distance as battle seemed to recommence, but Eret paid little attention to them.

He could give a damn about the Overworld in a minute, for now he just needed to  _ mourn _ . 

It felt strange to be grieving like this - instead of having memories of a life that he and his brother had shared together, instead of crying over what had been lost he was crying over what would never be. He  _ knew  _ that George was his brother, but those memories had been taken from him. Their life together had been stolen and he would never be given time to make another. Eret would never know how he laughed, or smiled, or loved. He’d never feel his brother’s arms wrapping tightly around him in an embrace, he’d never know what it felt like to have a family that loved him.

The sound of a Ghast’s cry from above didn’t pull him out of his trance, but the feel of Skeppy’s hand on his shoulder did. 

“We need to go, they need our help.” Skeppy said quietly, struggling to convince even himself that rejoining his friends on the beach would be of any help. At this stage, everything seemed  _ utterly  _ helpless.

“I’ll come back for you, Herobrine, I promise.” Eret whispered, taking in slow and steady breaths to force himself to calm down. He could channel the anger he felt into action, use it against the man he was certain had caused this, and take down his father once and for all. Then, if he lived, he would give George the funeral he deserved: one of honour and love. It hurt to separate his own body from his brother’s, but he lay George down on the ground beside Illumina and moved back. He was becoming more aware of his surroundings again and he could sense that something was wrong, something bigger than just the sounds of fighting in the distance. 

Eret unsheathed his sword and used it to help him stand, and in the span of only a few moments he steeled himself entirely. Any trace of emotion was gone, replaced now with a completely blank look. Emotions would come later, now it was time to fight.

Skeppy decided to allow himself a moment of his own. George might not have been his brother, but he was still a friend, and just in case he didn’t make it back to his body in one piece he wanted to say some kind of a goodbye while he could.

“We  _ will  _ come back George.” He said quietly, reaching to his side and unhooking the Totem from his belt. He looked at the small hand crafted statue, wondering if its power really was all it was marked up to be. He supposed if he didn’t have it on his person then he might never find out, but he wanted to give George  _ something _ . A promise that they’d come back, that his friends would be there to thank him for his sacrifice and mourn him. Swallowing, he placed the Totem on his chest and gently moved one of his hands to hold it in place. “All of us will, we’ll be here for you.”

Standing back up and taking in a breath, Skeppy closed his eyes and composed himself. His eyes didn’t stay closed for long - knowing that if he did he’d see nothing other than the images of what he’d had to do to Sapnap - and when he opened them again he looked to Eret. 

“We’d better start moving again.” He said, Skeppy nodding. They were both numb from their losses, exhausted from what they’d seen, but continuing to fight was the only chance they had of winning.

Skeppy walked a few paces through ashy, frozen grass and looked to where the fires raged in the distance. On the other side of that was the beach, the rest of the battle, and they would either win or lose. Eret held out his hand for Skeppy, ready to teleport the pair through the worst of it rather than continue walking, when a sound from behind caught both their attention.

_ Coughing _ .

Eret turned quicker, head almost snapping off with the speed of which he’d moved when he’d heard it. He’d been ready to fight, his grip on his sword tightening, until his eyes settled on who was coughing.

George spluttered as he sat upright, the Totem on his chest having disappeared entirely and his hands at his side on the ground, pushing himself upright as he struggled to come to terms with what had happened. His breathing was laboured and painful - it was obvious from the look on his face - and both Eret and Skeppy dropped any plans of returning to the battle the moment that it properly clicked in their mind.

_ George was alive _ .

“Herobrine!” Eret breathed, and any kind of impulse control he had shot out of the window. He was on his knees and at his brother’s side without notice, his arms wrapping tightly around the coughing man and pulling him into the tightest hug he dared to give. He didn’t want to break him, didn’t want to cause any more discomfort, but he craved the sensation of a hug. He needed to  _ know  _ that his brother was alive, that everything was okay.

Despite the confusion around the situation, George’s arms wrapped around the man in return and he took the comfort with ease. As his coughing began to subside, his body becoming used to being conscious and alive once more, he let his eyes focus slowly on the world around him and tried to analyse the situation a little more critically. 

“Skeppy?” George asked, his eyes catching sight of the man and a small smile making its way onto his face. He had a friend, he was safe. As he spoke, Eret shifted and pulled back from the hug to look at George with his own eyes - on the same side of the battle - for the first time in what he could only presume was tens of thousands of years.

“ _ Herobrine _ .” His voice was a whisper and he swallowed back his nerves, wondering if George had kept his memories or not. From the blank look on his face he decided that he hadn’t, but it didn’t deter him: things could be explained properly later. “You’re my brother, please  _ please  _ don’t do that to me again.”

“I fell, Dream--” George shook his head, trying to take in the information he’d just been given. “How am I alive?”

“I gave you a Totem.” Skeppy said quickly, joining George and Eret where they sat and looking between them. “It must work after people are gone.”

The realisation hit the three of them hard and fast.  _ They could bring people back even after they were gone _ .

There was no telling how long after dying someone could be brought back, or what state their body needed to be in to bring them back, but that small realisation gave them an awful lot of hope. If they won they could bring people back, they could heal some of the damage that had been done, the despair they were all feeling didn’t feel quite so bleak anymore.

“I have to admit…” A deep voice pulled the three men from their thoughts, focusing their attention on the God that stood before them. In the wind, his pink hair blew behind him and his bloodstained shirt ruffled. “I didn’t expect this.”

Technoblade towered over them, sword in his hand but making no move to attack just yet. His words weren’t a lie - he  _ hadn’t  _ expected them to find a way to bring George back to life and so to be faced with both of his sons at the same time  _ surprised  _ was an understatement.

“I’ll kill you.” Eret hissed, pulling back from George and reaching for his weapon. “For everything you’ve done, everyone you’ve hurt,  _ this ends now _ .”

“You could have been so much more, Eret, I was so  _ proud _ of the man you’d become. What a shame you had to follow your brother and fail me now.”

“Skeppy, you need to run.” George said quietly, turning his head to look at his friend. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the body of his grandfather lying motionless in the dirt but he knew now wasn’t the time to deal with that. Skeppy needed to get to safety, and he needed to stop Technonlade. He could process the rest if he lived. “This isn’t your battle, you aren’t safe here, get back to Bad and the others.” 

Skeppy nodded. The situation arising - the feud between the family of Gods - was not something he wanted to be part of in a hurry and he was  _ more  _ than content with leaving. He got to his feet warily, almost expecting Technoblade to strike him down in a show of power, but he hardly seemed phased. Then again, to a God like him what did it matter if Skeppy lived to run back to his friends? Right now, he was focused solely on his sons, and it gave Skeppy the chance he needed to run. 

His footsteps were heavy against the ground, Eret and George both waiting in silence and unmoving until they were unable to hear him. When the only sound around them was the crackling of the fire and the blowing of the breeze, they got to their feet slowly and Eret unsheathed his blade as George moved forward slowly to pick up Illumina’s sword. The tip of the netherite blade was coated in a small amount of blood - and while Technoblade was hiding it well that meant he was at least a little injured. At least that meant the playing field was somewhat leveled.

“I should have known sons of the Overworld would be traitors.” Technoblade said, beginning to walk slowly and stalk the pair of them as they watched him with angry eyes. He, on the other hand, was amused by it all. He had hoped that at least one of his sons would have stood beside him long enough to claim the Overworld, but if they were so damn insistent on turning against him then he’d simply have to kill them sooner rather than later. “Your mother never should have saved you, what a  _ waste  _ you both were.”

“You can’t win this, not against two of us.” Eret said bravely, tightening his grip on his sword and shifting his weight between his feet. He was ready to strike at a moment's notice.

“I taught you everything you know, Eret.” Technoblade scoffed. “Everything you think to do, I already know it. You cannot beat me.”

Eret didn’t let himself react visibly to the words spoken, wanting to keep his face as unreadable as possible. He was, at this point, stalling for time. The longer it took for the battle to start, the stronger that George would likely feel and the better the chance of beating him. They had to beat him: if Technoblade won this it was all over.

The tension grew as the silent stalemate dragged on - Technoblade walking circles around his sons and waiting for them to make the first move. Clearly, he seemed to think that if they attacked first he’d be able to counter them and gain the upper hand. Without being able to discuss a strategy with his brother, Eret knew there was a real risk of such an incident happening, so he simply waited. It was up to George to make the first move when he felt strong enough.

Gritting his teeth together and weighing the sword in his hands, George pushed his shoulders back and straightened himself as he prepared to strike. They were going into this fight blind.

This was the only chance the Overworld had. 

_ No pressure. _

“You might be right,  _ father _ .” George snarled, seeing Technoblade raise an eyebrow at the use of his title. “We can’t beat you, but you’ve forgotten something.”

“Oh, have I?” He asked, scoffing in mock offence. “Please,  _ Herobrine _ , enlighten me. What crucial piece of information have I forgotten?”

“You’re alone.” George said, pausing for a moment to listen. Beyond the popping of embers as the fires began to die down, and the sound of battle in the distance, there was now something else. As George smiled and pointed towards the sky, looking up to see a dark silhouette against the clouds.  _ A Wither _ . He’d heard the rumble of thunder as he’d fallen, watched the clouds draw in as he’d hit the ground and died. While he hadn’t seen the beast he  _ knew  _ it was coming and if it had been spawned deliberately, it must have been for good reason. It was one hell of a gamble to be taking, but it had to pay off.

A little lower than the Wither that flew above their heads was a group of Ghasts, mounted by Pigmen that had come to assist in the battle. If faced with these threats alone George was certain that Technoblade would be able to take them, but he was surrounded on all sides, and unless he killed the lot of them he would be cornered. 

With Technoblade following George’s look to the sky, he chose that moment to strike. Bringing his sword above his head he ran towards his father and swung the weapon down quickly, intending to strike his shoulder but being stopped at the last moment. George’s blade was met by Technoblade’s, and the man chuckled.

“This is how you intend to beat me? With a sword? Oh, Herobrine, you’ve lost your edge.”

Eret had caught on to George’s plan as he’d spoken, and while his brother engaged with Technoblade personally and the two parried with their swords he focused on drawing the attention of the Wither. He knew what George didn’t - that  _ Sapnap  _ was part of the Wither - and that meant that there was a chance, a slight chance, that they’d be able to concentrate the monster’s attack on Technoblade.

One of the half dozen Ghasts was already aiming toward Technoblade - flying lower than the others and able to spot him with ease as the Pigman on its back commanded it to fire. But one fireball would do nothing more than anger the God and risk harming George, so Eret was quick to put himself between the fight and the incoming projectile. He swung his blade, batting the missile back into the skies and watching as it rose. It didn’t hit the Wither - that hadn’t been the intention - but it  _ did  _ catch its attention. The creature reoriented itself, the three heads looking down towards the battle on the ground before it began to descend.

As it got closer, Eret could make out that the middle head didn’t quite belong. The differences were subtle, but there - and if you didn’t know what to look for then it would be easy to miss it completely. The skull was a slightly different shape to the two either side, and more importantly it hadn’t shot a single skull. Eret wondered if that was a conscious decision, or if Sapnap’s skull was physically incapable of shooting projectiles, but it was of little consequence in the moment. The creature was closing in on the ground fast, and Eret moved clear of the battle between his brother and father.

“Herobrine!” He yelled, drawing his attention away from the fight just long enough to register the monster moving toward him. Looking away for a second was enough for Technoblade to have an advantage, his sword moving to cut George’s arm at the shoulder, but at the last moment he stopped. Eret stood with an arm outstretched, the God frozen in place, and George scrambled away. His feet struggled against the slippery mud beneath him and it took him a moment to get out of his father’s reach. When he did, he focused his own powers on helping Eret. He squinted, holding his hand towards Technoblade and took in deep breaths. The God couldn’t move, and at the command of the Pigmen, six fireballs were spat from the Ghasts towards him.

Two hit, two missed by a longshot, one passed him narrowly and one hit the ground beneath his feet. The fires that had started to extinguish themselves were quickly restarted, Technoblade was burned and thrown back - both Eret and George letting go at the same time from the sheer force of the blast - and dirt flew into their faces. 

Wiping at his eyes, Eret took the moment to run towards Technoblade from behind and bring down his own sword while George took much more reckless action. As the Wither passed him by, he grabbed hold of it’s boney ribcage and dug his fingers into the skin to hold on tightly. It didn’t take kindly to someone being so close to it and immediately began to rise once more, back above the trees as its heads turned towards George. He was too close, there was no way they could get an angle to shoot him - for now, he was safe.

Above the trees and out of the thickest column of smoke rising from the fire, George looked to the horizon once more. The line that he’d seen before Dream had pushed him was still there -  _ except closer now _ \- and the mountains that had appeared on the horizon between them and it had utterly vanished. It wasn’t a case of mist or cloud hiding them, they were simply  _ gone _ .

Concern flowed through him for a moment, before he heard the cry of his brother from below and looked down to focus on the battle at hand. Technoblade had slashed his face open with the tip of his sword. From where he was, George could see the blood, but Eret continued to fight and that at least meant that the damage done hadn’t been deadly. Still, to save his brother from coming to any further harm he had to act quickly.

Shifting his body around the Wither he clambered further up its back, sheathing his sword at his side to allow him to use both hands for leverage. There was no telling if the plan would work, or if it would backfire horribly, but it  _ was  _ a plan. 

His hands moved either side of the right skull, fingers digging into the holes in the bones where once upon a time eyes would have sat. He used his position to twist the head, focusing it towards Technoblade and Eret, and he  _ prayed  _ that Eret would have the sense to get away. Without risking a moment to wait, George brought one foot up and kicked with Wither as hard as he physically could, feeling its body jolt and hearing a wail of pain in response as a skull was fired from the head that George had grabbed. 

The projectile burned the tips of his fingers badly and he let go for a brief moment, before he remembered that his fingers were the only things keeping him from falling to the ground once more and he caught himself. He could work through the pain,  _ he had to _ , and he watched the skull hurtle toward his brother and father.

Eret had heard the noise, he knew what was coming, but he knew all too well if he teleported away too soon that Technoblade would catch on too if he hadn’t realised already. So he stayed where he was, engaging the older God with his sword and listening to the sound of metal clashing until he was certain he had no more time.

He teleported away, and a moment later he heard an explosion. The ground beneath him shook, dirt was thrown into the air and trees were uprooted and tossed aside as if they were mere branches. The world was, for a moment, destroyed.

As the dust settled it became apparent that the plan had worked. Technoblade was still standing in the middle of where the explosion had been focused and appeared to be somewhat dazed. He was alive, and there’d be no way he’d let them pull the same trick again, so he had to finish it now. George was still high above the trees - it was up to Eret and Eret alone.

He could do this. He could kill his father. The bastard that had killed his mother, tormented him and his brother. When George had failed him, he’d banished him, and he’d erased his own memory more times than he expected could be counted. He had experimented on mortals until he’d perfected his sick and twisted method of twisting them into weapons for his own use, and then he’d forced Eret to perform the same experiments. He was power hungry, he was greedy beyond what should have been imaginable, and  _ nothing  _ would stop him.

No, that was a lie.  _ Eret would stop him. _

He saw red as he marched towards the God, watching him carefully as he reached for his sword once more and wiped blood and dirt from his face to try and get his bearings. The Ghasts were firing again, but Eret paid little attention to the fireballs. The explosions they produced weren’t nearly as strong as that of a Wither, nor as deadly, but they were enough to keep Technoblade from finding his composure. That was all he needed - something that stopped him from getting back to his feet. 

Eret’s tongue poked out from between his lips and licked away some of the blood that poured from the cut across his face, running over his teeth as he glared down at the man daring to call himself a father. He was a monster: nothing more and nothing less.

“You think you can win?” Eret asked angrily, raising his sword above his head. “If you could win, how come you’ve never won before? You’ve lost, every time you’ve tried to lead this battle  _ you’ve failed _ . You  _ can’t  _ win, you aren’t strong enough.”

Bringing the blade down quickly, he felt a slight resistance as the tip hit Technoblade’s neck and cut through his skin. It wasn’t deep, not enough to remove his head, but enough for him to gasp for air and instead choke on blood. The sound was sickening, his coughs unable to clear the thick liquid that pooled in his airways, but Eret still viewed the world through a lens of anger and red and he didn’t hold back. 

“You’re a megalomaniac, you always cared so much more about seizing power and land than anything else. You were already powerful enough, you already controlled a realm and had the power to twist the Universe at your fingertips, and that wasn’t  _ enough _ .” 

The final word was punctuated with a stab to his chest - netherite blade pushing through his skin, shattering his ribcage and plunging just above his heart. It was calculated by Eret, he’d been  _ deliberate  _ in his choice not to kill him just yet. A few more seconds of suffering, a little longer with blood spitting from his mouth and pain coursing through his body, it was  _ deserved  _ for everything he’d done.

“You wanted to rule the Universe, but let me tell you  _ something _ , father…”

He pressed his foot to his father’s stomach, pushing him back and toppling him to the ground as his sword was slowly removed from his chest. His skin was pale and his eyes glazed over. He wasn’t quite dead, still clinging on to life by a stubborn thread, and Eret let himself smile at the knowledge that  _ he  _ would be the one to end it.

“It was never meant to be.”

With that, Eret held his sword with both hands and squeezed the weapon tightly, pushing it down from above with all the strength he had in him. He didn’t miss his heart this time, hearing a satisfying squelch when the blade pierced his body and watching for a brief moment as the God spasmed before falling completely still.

_ He was dead. _

# # #

“You’re soaked!” Tubbo laughed, smiling at Tommy as the pair got back to their feet and continued running. They’d been following the cobblestone islands out to sea, having spotted something in the distance and been curious to see if they could find a way to twist it to their advantage - the Endermen couldn’t get to them out here and it had been worth a shot. 

“You can talk, you’re wet through!” Tommy said, using his axe to gesture towards Tubbo’s own clothing. For a brief moment, they’d thought they’d made a horrible mistake when the sky above was filled with a Dragon, a Wither, and a half dozen Ghasts approaching from the horizon, but most of the monsters had left and now all they had was an injured Dragon circling above.

Well,  _ someone  _ had to defeat it.

While neither of them had voiced their plan aloud, they didn’t  _ need  _ to. They’d grown up together, it was easy to know what the other was thinking just by sharing a quick glance and moving their eyebrows accordingly, and they had one thing on their mind right now.

They needed to get to the largest cobblestone platform - the one that connected to the monument - and they needed to find a way to lure the Dragon down to them. She had no crystals to heal her so any damage done would be lasting, and she already appeared to be weak. Of course, if they lived to tell the tale they would conveniently miss that part out. 

Jumping over the gaps of water between the rocky platforms, trying to avoid slipping on puddles or seaweed, they saw shoals of fish beneath the water starting to gather. Both Tommy and Tubbo recognised the creatures - more from stories than personal encounters - and they were understandably concerned. Guardians posed a threat, but it had been their decision to come out this far and they knew what risk they were taking. They were considerably  _ less  _ of a threat than Endermen. For now, they’d stay out of the water and try not to disturb them to see if they could keep the peace.

As they landed on the last platform they looked up to the Dragon above them, her wings flapping slowly to keep her at a consistent height. Neither of them had projectiles that could be used to bring her down, and as Tommy swiped his wet hair away from his face his shoulders fell.

“I’m not quite sure how we’re meant to do this.” He admitted. “I’m tall, but not quite  _ that  _ tall.”

“She might tire herself out eventually, maybe she’ll try to land? If she’s injured and not healing she might--”

Tubbo was cut off by the sound of a scream from above, the Dragon roaring at the pair of them as she flew overhead. Both men looked up just in time to see a purple cloud of breath moving hastily towards them. Rather than remain beside each other they split apart, darting to opposite sides of the platform as the breath settled and lingered on the cobblestone. It wouldn’t stay there forever, but the platform wasn’t  _ that big  _ and a few more breaths from the Dragon would render the small island absolutely useless. 

“Where do we go?” Tubbo yelled, bringing a hand to his mouth and nose to try and keep himself from breathing anything in. “We can’t just stand here.”

“We don’t have any other choice, the water’s full of Guardians, we need to bring her down to us!”

Tubbo wasn’t convinced by Tommy’s plan, but given that he didn’t have another of his own he decided to accept it and follow his lead. He edged further away from the lingering breath, closer to the edge of the platform, and risked looking down into the water below. With the sun hidden by clouds it was difficult to see far, though it was clear that the ocean floor was far,  _ far  _ below, and the only light there was came from sea lanterns that illuminated the monument. There were dozens of Guardians, stepping foot in the water would be risky and Tubbo wasn’t entirely sure that if it came to it, he’d be able to.

Glancing back over to Tommy he took in the nervous look on his friend’s face as his eyebrows knitted together and his eyes scanned the sky. He was looking for a solution, and if anyone could find one then Tubbo was certain it was them.

He had faith in Tommy to fix this, faith in himself that they could take out the Dragon, so when another cloud of breath came hurtling towards the platform they stood on he was taken by surprise. He had been so  _ confident  _ in themselves that it took him a moment of blinking to register that Tommy had stumbled when he tried to back away from the new cloud and had fallen into the water, and even when the droplets began to land on cobblestone it took a second to realise exactly what had happened.

The Dragon’s breath had surrounded Tommy,  _ he was in the water with the Guardians _ .

Without thinking twice, Tubbo took in a deep breath and covered his face as he began to run across the platform, using the slippery surface to his advantage by falling onto his front and propelling himself across the stone as quickly as possible until he reached the other side. He used his boots to slow himself down and keep from falling in alongside his friend. The breath didn’t do too much damage to his body, his head and shoulders were poking out of the cloud and so he could continue to breathe normally while his eyes desperately searched the ocean for Tommy. If the Guardians had gotten him, if they’d run all this way to take down the Dragon only for the Guardians to…

_ No, he couldn’t think like that. _

“Tommy! Tommy where are you?!”

There was no immediate response and Tubbo felt sick to his stomach, terrified that he was going to lose his friend without being able to even try to help him. It was a moment later that the water rippled, surface tension stretching the liquid for a second before it parted like curtains and Tommy’s head came back above the water. He took in a deep breath, opened his eyes, then smiled and laughed.

“Tubbo! Come on in, the water’s  _ lovely _ !” He grinned, bringing his legs up to the surface and sculling with his hands to keep himself afloat. “They aren’t attacking, they swam around me and didn’t even try to hurt me.”

“What?” Tubbo asked. He was confused, but immediately began to follow the instructions he’d been given. Another breath from the Dragon would be enough to completely swamp the platform and he didn’t want to risk being there when that happened. “Why aren’t they trying to kill you?”

“I dunno, but it’s  _ brilliant _ .” He said, righting himself again and watching as Tubbo slipped into the water beside him. It was  _ freezing _ cold, but they’d both already been soaked to the bone when the Wither had shot its projectiles into the ocean and they were somewhat accustomed to the temperature now. 

The pair swam a little way from the platform, not wanting to be caught up in any further attacks by the Dragon and hoping that they’d be able to give the breath time to dissipate without anything more accumulating. Eventually, they’d return to land and be able to fight her, but they needed to lure her down first.

As they swam away, there was movement beneath their feet, and they both stopped to look down as they saw the dozens of Guardians swim to surround the platform completely. Tubbo swallowed nervously, bringing one hand to push his hair away from his face while the other kept him afloat.

“What are they doing?” Tubbo asked. “Is this… Good?”

“I don’t know.” Tommy replied, his voice almost a whisper as he watched on with just as much fascination as his friend. The two of them were quiet, and for a moment the only sounds around them was the gentle lapping of waves against the cobblestone and flapping of Dragon wings, and then the silence was shattered. 

As the Dragon flew overhead once more, close to the cobblestone platform as she searched for Tommy and Tubbo to attack again, the Guardians acted. While neither of them had seen a Guardian in person before they recognised the lasers that extended from their mouths - a conductive, fleshy extension that would dig into the flesh of their victims and lock them in place whilst delivering an electric shock. It was what made Guardians so deadly, even at range, and was  _ why  _ they hadn’t sought them out before. But with dozens of lasers shooting up towards the Dragon in one go, the tips finding her scaley skin and digging in as deep as possible, she was brought to a halt. She flapped her wings harder to escape, trying to combat the strength of at  _ least  _ twenty-five Guardians, but managed to move very little. 

Tommy let out a loud laugh, Tubbo grinned from ear to ear, and they heard a rumble from beneath them. The water suddenly became choppy and the rumble grew, causing both men to look below to see the arrival of three more Guardians.

Three,  _ huge  _ Guardians.

They both kicked their legs to move a little further back from the cobblestone and make space for the larger three creatures to swim around them, watching as they too positioned themselves around the platform and shot out their own lasers towards the Dragon. Now, not only was she unable to make her way back into the skies to fly to safety, but she was being pulled closer to the platform. 

“They’re bringing her to us!” Tubbo shouted, watching as the purple breath began to slowly dissipate. “They’re  _ helping us _ !”

“That is  _ fantastic _ .” Tommy grinned, turning to look at his friend. “Come on, we can do this! Tommy and Tubbo, taking out the Ender Dragon and saving the world!”

“Wilbur  _ will  _ kill you if this doesn’t.” Tubbo warned, kicking his legs to change his body’s orientation before starting to swim back towards the platform.

The pair were careful as they swam, not wanting to kick a Guardian and end up on their bad side while they were helping, and as they got closer to the platform they moved slowly to make sure they didn’t get tangled up in the lasers. They found the side with the least Dragon’s breath still lingering on and Tommy pulling himself up first, offering a hand to Tubbo and hoisting him up. The air was cold, and the Dragon’s wings desperately flapping made the chill of the wind all the more bitter, but they had to push through it. 

Drawing their weapons, the two gave each other a smile and a nod before starting their assault. They stuck close to the edge of the platform, not wanting to be too far away from escape when the Dragon inevitably died and collapsed, and they weighed their sword and axe into their hands. With his sword, Tubbo was able to reach further ahead of him and could risk attacking a little closer to the middle of the Dragon’s torso, able to hit her organs more effectively without being at the same risk Tommy and his axe would have been. It didn’t stop Tommy from fighting aggressively, using the sharp edge of the blade to cut deeply through the thick skin and find veins filled with purple blood. As Tommy found a particularly important vessel and the blood poured quickly onto the cobblestone beneath them he took his axe and hit time and time again, the adrenaline the action gave him helping to keep him from shivering from the cold. 

The Dragon above was screaming. She was in pain, she was trapped, and her wings were starting to struggle. It wouldn’t be long until she was dead, until they could return to land and help with the rest of the battle. As her movements became more and more sluggish and her cries weaker, Tubbo took his sword and struck one last time, plunging the blade deep into her stomach and twisting it around. He heard her cry but instead of staying to pull the weapon out from inside her he left, running back to the edge. Tommy followed suit, his axe hilted at his side as he headed to plunge himself back into the water as the Guardians delivered the final blow. In unison, every creature with a laser already holding her in place began to attack, and electricity pulsed and shocked the Dragon. She let out one final scream, choking on her own breath before her body collapsed from where it had been hovering above the water.

While she hadn’t been particularly high up, her body was still heavy and she crashed onto the cobblestone with a colossal amount of force. The monument that had been weakened by the three Elder Guardians moving through the narrow corridors and displacing pillars collapsed entirely and as Tommy and Tubbo found themselves in the water again they felt the waves surging around them - water quickly filling in the space below. They struggleded to catch a glance at each other, the waves tearing them apart as they fought to keep themselves above sea level. While they managed to avoid being pulled underneath by the skin of their teeth - while they’d managed to kill the Dragon - they knew there’d be one last challenge.

Water rocked back and forth, and the water that had been pulled in from the coast to fill the sudden space below the surface was suddenly pushed back the way it came forcefully. 

They needed to get back to land but for the briefest of moments, the ocean was going to be  _ so much safer  _ than the beach.

# # #

Bad saw it first. At least, he was fairly certain he saw it first. He’d lost Tommy and Tubbo in the chaos - almost all the soldiers had split up after the Wither had destroyed the ground beneath their feet - and while they’d chased down some of the Endermen an awful lot of people had been injured on the beach or simply sought shelter. They wanted to be safe, they were tiring out and the impossibility of it all was dawning on a good number of people. Except the Universe was making it painfully clear that they weren’t being given the luxury of time.

The Dragon had been slain - her silhouette no longer dominated the sky but instead lay unmoving on the horizon, and water had rushed away from the beach quickly unveiling more land than had been exposed by the tides in an awful long time. As fascinating as it was to think about the fact that the sand now on show hadn’t seen the light of day in possibly hundreds of years, the water rushing away was a stern warning of what was about to follow. 

The burning forest suddenly looked awfully appealing.

“Everyone needs to run,  _ now! _ ” Bad yelled at the top of his lungs, looking across the sand and trying to see if there was anyone that  _ hadn’t  _ noticed, if anyone was paralysed with fear knowing what was about to happen, but everyone that he could see was running. Some that didn’t trust the fiery forest were taking a diagonal route towards the mountains, hoping to scale the steep cliffs quickly enough to be out of reach of the incoming waves, but Bad stuck with the forest. The Dragon hadn’t fallen from too great of a height, he had faith that the wave approaching wouldn’t be too high. Not waiting a moment longer, he started to run towards the trees and stopped paying attention to his surroundings. Instead, as he operated on autopilot, he thought about everything he wanted to live for.

For Skeppy - he wanted a future with Skeppy after all of this was over. He wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, and he didn’t mean embracing as the world ended - he wanted a full life with a home, with children, with hobbies and memories made. He wanted to see his friends again, he wanted George and Dream to be  _ okay  _ after all of this and to have their own happy life together. Wherever Dream was, whatever had happened to him, they could still save him too - right?

Bad decided he wasn’t dying today.

The smoke was getting thicker around him and the air getting a lot hotter, making it much more difficult to keep running. He didn’t know how far inland he’d made it so he kept up his pace but he refused to look over his shoulder. He couldn’t see the beach anymore, so if he turned around and saw water rushing towards him it would be too late already. He’d rather not know if that was the case.

For now, he had to have faith that he would make it out of this alive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is possibly the most optimistic moment for the trilogy since the snowball fight in chapter 5 & there's a fucking tsunami


	13. A Tsunami & The Between

Skeppy was certain he’d never run so fast in his life. Through the heat of the fires, the sounds of fighting, and the smoke obscuring his view he had to be careful not to trip on any roots or fallen branches, but the urge to get away from Technoblade and to find Bad drove him to move quickly. 

The first indication Skeppy had of something going wrong was when he encountered people running in the opposite direction to him. One person would have been understandable - perhaps they were just trying to run from an Enderman - but when that one person was followed instead by another handful of people, when Pigmen started to push past him and run back the way he came, he started to panic. He didn’t know what was happening to cause so many people to run, but whatever it was it didn’t matter.

_ Bad hadn’t run past him _ .

Instead of turning around and following the crowds in fleeing whatever they were escaping, he continued to run towards the beach. Bad had to be somewhere, and if he wasn’t with the rest of the crowd then maybe he was in trouble. He wouldn’t let himself risk losing Bad, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to bear the weight of it all on his shoulders on top of everything else he was already struggling to cope with. 

The smoke from the fire seemed to be thinning out a little, and while he couldn’t see down to the beach his visibility was now much further in front of him. He could see a few more people running and he came to a halt, letting his eyes scan the horizon. 

“Bad!” He cried out, looking around desperately. “Bad! Where  _ are  _ you?!”

There was no reply. There were less people emerging from the distance, it had to be the last of those running now. If Bad didn’t appear soon then Skeppy’s worry was only going to grow exponentially until he managed to find him. Surely, if he was face to face with the Dragon he would have been smart enough not to face it alone? He’d seen the Wither fly overhead, and that at least gave him  _ some  _ comfort, but it wasn’t enough: there were still too many dangerous things out there that were biding their time. 

“Bad! Please!”

Skeppy hesitated for a moment, swallowing and steeling himself against whatever was to come when he heard a voice.

“Skeppy?!” 

_ Bad _ .

“Bad!”

“Skeppy, run!”

Bad appeared from the smoke, his eyes filled with desperation as he looked towards him and Skeppy found himself damn near paralysed with fear. He’d seen Bad scared before - they’d all been scared going into this - but this was something entirely different. He felt a tight grip on his wrist, his skin twisted painfully between Bad’s fingers, and he was tugged in the direction Bad was running.

“Skeppy,  _ we have to run! _ ”

The sound of the waves crashing into the beach began to fill the air, louder than any waves Skeppy had heard before, and he realised then what was happening.

“Skeppy, c’mon we have to go!” 

Bad’s words weren’t quite getting through. Skeppy could hear him, though he was distant, but he couldn’t will his legs to move. Everything he’d seen, everything he’d done, and on top of it all water was hurtling towards them faster than they could escape… Skeppy couldn’t move, and Bad could tell that pulling on his arm wasn’t going to change anything. The sound of waves battering the shore was getting louder, and the smoke he’d run through was beginning to thin out as the fires were extinguished and trees were uprooted. The waves were getting closer, and Bad scanned their surroundings once more. There was no way they’d be able to outrun the waves: now they needed to find somewhere safe and pray that things would turn out okay. 

Spotting the largest tree he could find - the one that he  _ hoped  _ would have a system of roots strong enough to keep it from moving - he shifted to stand in front of Skeppy and try to gain his full attention.

“I need you to listen to me, Skeppy. Everything’s going to be okay, okay? The Dragon’s dead but there’s a wave coming inland and we need to hold on tightly, I need you to follow me. It’ll weaken the Endermen and we can win, and everything will be okay.”

Skeppy blinked, his eyes seeming to focus a little more at Bad’s gentle reassurance. With the Dragon gone, things seemed a little less  _ hopeless _ . Maybe the insurmountable challenge they faced  _ wasn’t  _ so terrifying, maybe all the pain they’d suffered through would be worth it.

It was enough for his legs to respond to his mind, and as water began to quickly creep into view they didn’t hesitate. Bad pulled Skeppy towards the tree, not caring if he pulled a little too roughly in that moment, before pushing him back against the bark. The water was around their ankles and rising, and Bad searched for a way to climb higher. One hand held a branch, the other kept Skeppy pinned against the tree, but he couldn’t see a way for them to get up to the canopy.

Surely, the Dragon alone couldn’t have created a wave big enough for them to still be in danger… Had something else happened? If there’d been an earthquake, they’d have felt it on shore. He supposed, as water began to trickle into his boots and rose up to his knees, that the ins and outs of it all didn’t really matter right now.

“Skeppy--” Bad started, swallowing nervously and trying to hide his own worries as the tree they were up against began to creak. If the water rose much higher there was a risk of being washed away by it, but for now Bad’s grip on the branch above was enough to keep them in place. “I love you.”

“Marry me?” Skeppy said breathlessly, impulsively, but honestly. “I love you too, and if we get out of this alive-”

“ _ When  _ we get out of this alive.” Bad corrected.

“When we get out of this alive, I want to marry you. I’ve been in love with you for longer than I knew, you’re my best friend, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know we’ll bicker and we’ll argue but I promise, I’ll always fix everything. Whatever mistakes I make, I’ll say sorry.  _ I love you _ .”

“Okay.” Bad said softly, a smile on his face and his voice barely heard above the roar of rushing water.

“Okay?!” Skeppy asked, his voice thick with mock offense. “I propose to you in the middle of a war -  _ during a tsunami  _ \- and you say--”

Skeppy’s last words didn’t make it from his mouth, because Bad used his position to lean in and press a kiss to his lips and silence him. He closed his eyes, feeling the water flowing up to his thighs and his legs starting to lose their grip on the ground beneath. With his right hand he clung to the tree branch much more tightly, his left holding Skeppy like his life depended on it, and he felt Skeppy shift his own grip. One hand rested tightly on his hips, pressing their bodies close together as the kiss deepened out of desperation. 

They would get married when they made it out alive, but if they didn’t this was the only way they wanted to go out: holding onto each other, holding onto the hope of a future.

The water stopped rising. 

The pair split apart, Skeppy looking at Bad tearfully with a smile on his face. He couldn’t see behind them, didn’t know if a second wave was approaching, but he didn’t care. Right now, they were safe. Right now, they had each other. That was all that mattered. Even as his heart hammered in his chest and fear ran through him,  _ they had each other. _

Bad, on the other hand, could see around them. With his eyes now open again he could see just how lucky they’d been and he wondered if there was someone looking down on them somewhere. Trees that had been uprooted by the wave had been tangled together and had come to an abrupt halt on the other side of the tree they were pressed against - getting stuck and keeping the two of them from being utterly submerged by water. It had slowed the progress of the wave that had hit them, and the barrier was probably the reason the two of them were still standing and still safe.

“We’re okay.” He whispered quietly, feeling the water at his legs start to flow in the opposite direction - backwash pulling debris back out to sea.  _ “We’re okay.” _

“We’re okay!” Skeppy laughed, and as the water began to recede he moved out of Bad’s grip to instead pull him into a tight hug. He pressed his face into his neck, closing his eyes and enjoying the moment. He knew the war wasn’t quite over, there was still work to be done and surviving Endermen to be slain, but he just wanted to spend a few moments more with that knowledge at the front of his mind. They’d survived, they could do this, and then--

“Do you still want to marry me?” He asked, pulling back to look at Bad. “Because if that was a heat of the moment acceptance because you thought we were going to die I  _ totally _ understand and--”

“Yes, Skeppy, it’s still a yes.” Bad said affectionately, giving him a gentle smile. He reached for the sword that he was thankful was still at his side, and he took in a breath. “The wave will have weakened any Endermen caught up in it - we can take them together.”

“We can finish this?” Skeppy questioned, feeling hope filling him as he let go of Bad and reached for his own weapon.

“Together.  _ We can finish this.” _

# # #

From his vantage point in the sky, still clinging to the Wither, George saw the moment his father died. He felt it in his chest, a deep searing pain as he lost the connection however faint it had been between them. He was gone,  _ dead _ , his reign of terror was over. Except the actions he had put into motion were still unfolding, the chaos he had caused could still wreak havoc even now he was gone, but no more would be started. 

George heard faint cries of the Dragon coming from far away - the familiar sound of the creature meeting its end - and he smiled. All that was left was to finish off the Endermen, something he was confident in the army of the Overworld doing, and to figure out whatever was creeping steadily towards them from the horizon. That, he had decided, was reserved for himself and Eret.  _ His brother - he had a brother!  _ He allowed himself a moment of laughter, his smile widening as he realised he wasn’t alone. There was someone out there that would understand the pain he felt, the memories he’d lost, the torment he’d been through.  _ He wasn’t alone _ .

The Wither swooped down towards the ground and George used that moment to teleport, landing beside his brother and standing in silence as he took in the sight of his father’s dead body from up close.

Perhaps he should have felt bad. Perhaps he should be  _ mourning _ the only real parent he’d ever known, but he couldn’t. There was no sorrow, no sadness, only relief. The blood that stained his shirt a deep crimson began to pool on the ground beneath him and Eret removed his sword from the body as he took deep breaths to calm himself. He used his free hand to push his hair away from his face and looked to George, offering him a small smile.

“Hi.” He said. 

“Hello.” George replied, pushing back his shoulders. “I’m George. Or, Herobrine, I suppose.”

“I think George suits you.” Eret said, sheathing his sword at his side. “Brother works, too.”

“I have a brother.” George laughed, and Eret followed suit. They were both utterly overjoyed by the discovery of family and by the fact that they’d reunited - both alive, both fighting for the same side, and the smiles on their faces despite the situation couldn’t be undersold. The happiness they both felt couldn’t take away from the task on the horizon, or the Wither above their heads that was currently distracted by Ghasts, and now they needed to act. They could enjoy each other’s company when it was all said and done.

As if understanding what the other was thinking, they both turned to look out towards the horizon and took in a deep breath. Whatever was out there - beyond the ruined remains of the village yet creeping steadily closer - it wasn’t good.

“Our father?” George asked, head turning to face Eret.

“Not many other people it could’ve been.” Eret replied, the ground beneath his feet crunching as he began to walk. As he left, George took one last look at Technoblade’s body and, for good measure, decided to kick his crown from his head as he walked by. Taking long strides to catch up to his brother he spared a glance to Illumina’s body and felt his breath hitching in his throat. Once whatever was on the horizon was stopped, once the world was safe, he would return. If he could, he would save his grandfather. If not, he would mourn him. This wasn’t goodbye, not yet.

# # #

The trek towards the horizon was far more disheartening than George had expected it to be. The village that had become a home to him and his friends was utterly destroyed, blown apart by the formation of the Wither with the beacon shattered across the ground - the Nether Star turned to dust - and buildings crumbling. When this was all over, the rebuilding effort would be monumental. Beyond the village, the camp had been devastated just as entirely. The winds that had accompanied the Wither had blown aside poorly built structures, End Ships that had plummeted from the sky were now piles of rubble that spread fire to any buildings that had remained standing.  _ Everything  _ was destroyed, even the sides of the quarry that had been dug out to find minerals and ores had collapsed in on itself. George and Eret walked in silence, both solemn at the destruction caused to the realm.

As they rounded the lake that had been formed early in the battle they realised that the darkness on the horizon was more than just a dark line - it was advancing towards them, eating up everything in its path, utterly devoid of life and plowing through everything without a care in the world. It was as if it were a black hole, though instead of pulling things towards it, it simply devoured whatever it touched and grew with every passing second. 

George and Eret stood a reasonable distance from it, watching as it twisted and bent to engulf trees and hills, and both ignored the battle that was taking place above their heads. The Wither had followed them as they’d walked, intent on destroying them, but the Ghasts had kept it distracted for the journey. They’d remained - for the most part - unperturbed by the fight, just listening to the explosions of fireballs and skulls high above and feeling the occasional wave of heat if cinders from an explosion rained down a little too close.

“This is it?” George said, his teeth teasing his bottom lip nervously. “There’s… There’s nothing here.”

“It’s just a void.” Eret agreed. No light escaped from it. It wasn’t like the portal to the End - filled with stars, the Universe itself like a pool of water held by the frame - instead it was just… Black. Darkness.  _ Nothing _ .

George bent down to pick up a stone from the ground, deciding that it would be a good test to see how deep it was. When he threw it, both men remained silent for half a minute, before looking at each other.

Even  _ if  _ there was a bottom, it didn’t matter after that long. If they fell that far there was only one outcome available.

“How are we supposed to stop it?” George asked. 

“We need to find out what’s started it.” 

“If we go in there, we could die. We’ve got no idea what it’s going to do to us, no idea what it’s done to the rest of the world.”

“And if we don’t?” Eret asked. “We have to assume it’ll keep growing, it’ll consume everything, us included. If we go in now we could find a way to stop it, save everyone else. If not, we’ll all die later.”

George took in a deep breath. Eret was right, and he  _ knew  _ he was right, but hearing it aloud helped. Knowing he wasn’t the only one thinking that they had to step into that thing made the idea seem an awful lot more rational. This was the solution,  _ the only solution,  _ and George nodded.

“Together?” Eret asked. He held out a hand for George to take, wiggling his fingers just a little towards him. He’d never done anything like this. He’d fought for his father, he’d followed orders, but he’d never  _ truly  _ devised a plan of his own and seen it through. Now, he had no choice. He had to, and he had to be brave enough to be the hero the Overworld needed. He wasn’t sure he could do that alone, but with George by his side?

“Together.” George replied, his fingers connecting with Eret’s and lacing together, squeezing tightly and relishing the moment of closeness before they took several long strides.

And then, they were consumed.

It was an odd feeling - one that George never thought he’d ever experience nor be able to accurately describe. The void rippled at the contact from above, acting more like a liquid than a solid or a gas in that moment, and however solid it had looked it proved itself not to be. While it wasn’t a black hole and didn’t have a gravitational pull that brought them closer to it, it certainly managed to pull them deeper into it at speed. Their feet disappeared into the void first, though there was no pain. It wasn’t like being withered, wasn’t like having a body part chopped off and removed, it was almost peaceful. He could still wiggle his toes even if he couldn’t see them, and as his calves disappeared too he felt cool. The void was cold, sending a shiver down his spine as it claimed his thighs and his hips. It didn’t speed up the rate at which they were swallowed, didn’t bend or contort their bodies, it just let them slide in and down. 

The last thing George saw before he was consumed entirely was the void expanding upwards to envelop the Wither. The void blocked out the world behind them entirely at that point - the village, the forest, the war… Everything was on the other side of the horizon, there was no way for the two of them to escape, and they had to hope that whatever awaited them on the other side of the void wouldn’t involve immediate death. At the very least, he hoped they would have time to stop the void from expanding any further before they gave their lives to it.

As their heads were pulled under and they were completely removed from the Overworld, things began to feel a little bit different.

The first thing George noticed was that Eret was no longer by his side, then that he couldn’t see the Wither, and then that his armour was gone: he’d been separated and stripped of his protection and his weapons. After the initial realisation of what had happened to him, he tried to focus on the world around him to figure out what was going on. Except… There  _ wasn’t  _ a world around him to focus on, there was nothing. He moved his hands in front of him and it felt like moving his body through treacle, except whatever was providing that kind of resistance was invisible. If it was the air, it had little impact on his ability to breathe. His feet still hadn’t found solid ground to support them and he felt himself slowly drifting lower and lower. Was this what he was destined to experience for the rest of eternity? The slow drag of the void pulling him under, neither killing or harming him but rendering him utterly unable to do  _ anything _ ?

“Eret?” George called out, testing to see if he could speak. He could, but his voice was muffled by the everything and the nothing that surrounded him. If his brother was out there, in the same place as him, he’d never know. 

George wasn’t sure how time was passing - or if time was passing. There was nothing to compare his experience to, no sun or sky or trees, just darkness. For all he knew, he could have experienced hours of his life in what felt like only a few short moments. The Overworld could have been completely consumed, everything could be gone.

And then, something happened.

He teleported. Not of his own free will, but instead like he’d bitten into chorus fruit and been sent off into the distance without any control over where he landed. Instead of landing somewhere completely randomised, the area he found himself in was clearly meant as a destination. Instead of being surrounded by nothing, there was now  _ something _ . His feet were on solid ground, he could see things around him, and in the first few moments of being there he took his time to absorb as much information as he could.

While still surrounded by darkness, by the void, there were definitive structures here. He could see three paths - one of which he’d landed on - all directed towards one central point. At the end of each path appeared to be a gateway, with dark silhouettes of familiar men illuminated by a faint, white glow. In the centre was a portal frame, shattered and broken. George looked over his shoulder - at the end of the path he was on stood a man he was  _ incredibly  _ familiar with, and he moved towards him hastily. The man was unmoving, his head hung low, and George realised as he got closer that he wasn’t  _ real _ . He swallowed, reaching out to confirm his theory, and his hand passed straight through Illumina. 

“George?”

His head jerked around at the sound of his name, and on one of the other paths he saw Eret. The man was equally confused about where he found himself, wary with every step he took, but the relief the brothers experienced in finding each other once more had them pushing aside their concerns and running along the paths to meet in the middle and embrace each other hurriedly. 

“I’m here.” He whispered into Eret’s shoulder, squeezing him tightly for his own comfort and reassurance before he pulled back and looked at the two remaining paths. One man he recognised - the image of Technoblade standing before them - but a third remained a mystery to him. Logically, he assumed that the man was the God of the Nether - it would make sense given the positions of Technoblade and Illumina. 

Their attention then turned to the broken portal that stood before them. What remained of the delicately crafted Endstone frame was already filled with Eyes of Ender: as if the portal itself was the source of the void. 

“Do you think…” Eret began slowly, stepping towards the frame and reaching out with one hand to press his fingers against the Endstone. It was cooler than the air around them, smooth to the touch, and Eret pulled away quickly. He pulled a face, one that looked to George as though he’d been in pain for the brief moment his fingers had been in contact with the stone, and George spoke.

“We need to fix it.” 

“How do we fix an End portal frame?”

George didn’t have an answer for that. Every End portal frame he’d come across had always been whole: he’d never broken one, never seen one that  _ was  _ broken, and had assumed that their creation had nothing to do with someone like him. He’d never been overtly religious before all this had taken place, but now it just seemed sensible to believe that the frames had been created by Gods. By  _ them _ .

“I think I can be of some assistance.”

Eret and George looked away from the portal and to each other the moment they heard the voice, soft and feminine ringing out around them. It confirmed that they had both heard it, that the void  _ wasn’t  _ messing with their minds (or at least, it was doing the same thing to both of them), and they turned to examine their surroundings. Technoblade and the God of the Nether remained undisturbed where they stood, but the gateway behind Illumina shone just a little brighter. Light and energy seemed to be pulled slowly from the arch, pooling on the floor beside their grandfather and beginning to turn into the image of something much more solid. It was unclear at first what was appearing before them, but as time passed and the image grew slowly they saw not some _ thing _ , but some _ one _ .

The woman that had appeared before them - no more real that the images of Gods that surrounded them - gave a gentle smile. In the darkness it was hard to make out any definitive features, especially when the woman before them wasn’t a face that either of them recognised and could mentally fill in the gaps of. And yet, despite not recognising her, her presence was comforting. Her skin was fair, her hair was long, and if the sword at her side and crossbow on her back were anything to go by then she appeared to be a seasoned fighter. 

With neither George nor Eret speaking a word as the woman approached, her expression softened and she looked at the men with almost pity in her eyes. But they remained silent, so she began to speak.

“You’ve come to save the world, then?” She asked, though she already knew the answer. “Very few people make it here alive, only the Gods can survive a trip to the Between.”

“Who are you?” Eret asked quietly, standing just a little behind George. “How are  _ you  _ in this place?”

“You don’t get it?” George asked, looking over his shoulder to him. “I’ve been here before, haven’t I?”

“You have.” The woman smiled. As she got closer it was easier to make out her features - her blonde hair and blue eyes - and she raised a leather clad hand to rest on George’s shoulder. “Briefly, yes, you entered this void. You heard my voice.”

“That doesn’t help  _ my  _ understanding.” Eret said, looking at the woman. His vision was blurred, eyes filled with tears that he didn’t understand and stomach twisting with guilt that he didn’t recognise. Despite the block in his mind, his inability to recognise the woman before him, he  _ knew  _ her. He wanted her to speak the words that his mind wouldn’t let him think.

“I’ve watched over you both, I’ve seen you fight, I know how far you’ve come. I can promise your journey is almost over. You can fix the portal and the prophecy will end, it’ll be another hundred thousand years before it begins again."

“But Technoblade is gone, there is no God of the End left to start another war, surely it’s  _ over _ .” Eret pointed out, but the woman before them shook her head.

“You,  _ my sons _ , are Gods of the Overworld  _ and _ the End.” She said gently, sadness filling her voice. “So long as you both live, the prophecy has a vessel. It  _ will  _ be fulfilled.”

“We have to fix this.” George turned to Eret, swallowing nervously as he did. “We can find a way,  _ together _ .”

“You have everything you need to fix the portal.” She told them, her gaze resting on George as her hands moved to take the goggles resting on her head. “Take these, my Herobrine.” She said softly. “Not quite the same as the ones you lost, but they should repair your vision.”

As she held the goggles out before her, the leather straps dangling loosely between her fingers, George swallowed. This woman,  _ his mother _ , was no more than a manifestation of light and energy. She wasn’t solid, wasn’t real, and yet he felt compelled to reach out. His fingers hesitantly stretched towards the goggles and then his breath hitched in his throat.  _ He made contact _ . 

His fingers curled around the goggles, watching as his touch was seemingly enough to turn them into something solid and tangible, and as amazement filled his mind he brought the goggles to his side, tying them securely to his belt. They were really there, and as he felt his eyes water he looked up to the woman that had given them to him.

“Can I-”

“No.” She replied, already knowing the question he would ask. “My spirit lives in the Between, my physical body died a long time ago. I can take on a form to let you see me, but I won’t be real.”

“Mum…” George whispered, taking in a shaky breath and blinking as tears left his eyes. “I’ll make you proud.”

“How could I not be proud, look how far you’ve come. Herobrine, I would never have wished such a life for you or your brother, but I am  _ far  _ beyond proud of what the two of you have become.”

“Will you stay with us?” Eret asked, and their mother’s attention turned to him. “While we do this. If we’re going to die… Will you be here until the end?”

“I’ve always been here.” She said, moving to raise a hand and press it to Eret’s cheek. Despite lacking a physical presence there was a certain warmth that the phantom touch still created, and Eret closed his eyes to lean into the feeling. He felt safe, he felt loved, he wanted to cherish it for the rest of his life - however short of a time that may be. “Do you really think I’d leave you now?”

As her hand dropped away from Eret and back to her side, the two men took in a deep breath and looked to each other, steeling away their emotions and focusing on the task at hand. They needed to fix the portal, they needed to save their friends and the Overworld. 

“I’m glad I got to know you, George.” Eret said, looking to the portal. “If I recreate the frame, will you create an Eye of Ender to fill it?”

“I can.” He said confidently. Manifesting things was something he’d had practice with, and although he’d never tried to summon in an Eye of Ender in a realm entirely unknown to him until now, he could do it. He had to do it. “I’m glad I met you too, Eret.”

They fell into a comfortable silence then. Neither man wanted to say goodbye, despite knowing that was what lay ahead.  _ Goodbye  _ felt so final.

With their last words spoken and their tasks assigned, both men took in a final breath before focusing themselves entirely on what they needed to do. George closed his eyes, trying to reach out to the world around him like he would have done in the Overworld to whisper to the very basic atoms that made up his surroundings, but he had no connection here. The spirits of the Gods, of his family, surrounded him, and yet he couldn’t find the same feeling he had in the Overworld. Harnessing his power in other realms wasn’t something he had managed to do with precision in the short time he had to learn to use his abilities, but if he  _ didn’t  _ create an Eye of Ender he would be letting the Universe down and risking the destruction of everything. 

He  _ had  _ to do this.

George was then hit with a sickening realisation. He thought of something that repulsed him and knotted his stomach tightly. He thought of a plan.

He’d only seen his eyes a handful of times in the last few months - preferring to avoid his reflection to hide from the transformation his body had undergone. But when he had seen them, they had been glowing purple. Ever since he’d defeated the Wither and woken up surrounded by Endermen in the cave his vision had been purples and blues, and it all seemed to make sense now. They had restored his vision with Eyes of Ender. 

He didn’t need to  _ create  _ an Eye of Ender, he just needed to  _ obtain _ it. 

If he thought about what he needed to do, George knew that the nausea he felt would only intensify and that he would be unable to act from fear, so he didn’t let himself think. He didn’t wait, didn’t try to prepare himself, he just acted. 

He pushed one finger into his eye socket, squeezing between his skin and his eye, and he crooked his finger as he exhaled heavily. It didn’t  _ hurt  _ like he was expecting it to, instead the best way he could describe the feeling was heavy. There was a pressure in his head, behind his eye, as he managed to push it from his socket. George tried not to think about what he was doing, or just how ill it was making him feel. Instead, he moved his hand to cover his eye completely. Not being able to see out of it gave him some comfort, though he knew the worst was still to come. 

Forcing himself to grip the whites of his eyeball, he pulled with all his might and as quickly as he could, severing the attachment to the optical nerve and removing it from his head completely. He couldn’t hold back his scream, nor did he try to, and his free hand clenched into a tight fist. He could only see out of his right eye now but avoided looking into his hand, not wanting to see the Eye of Ender that he held knowing where it had come from. He just wanted Eret to finish recreating the portal, to allow him to place the Eye into the final slot,  _ to end this all _ .

“I love you.”

Through the pain, George struggled to hear the voice that spoke to him, but he recognised it.  _ His mother. _

“You have played the game well.”

The words almost sounded  _ humble _ , but Technoblade spoke them: the man had never shown an ounce of humility in his life.

“Everything you need is within you.”

The voice was new, one that George quickly attributed to the one unknown that surrounded them - the God of the Nether. Given the fate that he had allegedly met, George understood why he appeared to be supporting them to end this all now.

“You are stronger than you know.”

George felt himself tearing up, hearing his grandfather’s voice once again. He didn’t know how he died, he only hoped it was peaceful.

“You are the daylight, you are the night.”

As the God of the Nether spoke once more, George heard the crunching of stone. The portal frame was beginning to take shape. As Eret used every last ounce of strength within him he let out a scream, almost drowning out the voices that spoke to them.

“The darkness you fight is within you.”

_ Technoblade _ .

“The light you seek is within you.”

_ Their mother _ .

“You are not alone.”

_ Illumina _ .

“You are not separate from every other thing.”

As their mother’s voice echoed out in the realm once more, there was an almighty boom as the frame of the portal became whole once more. The strength it had taken to conjure up such a rare and powerful object had utterly drained Eret, who barely had a moment of calm before his eyes closed and he slumped to the ground. 

George acted swiftly, fighting through the pain that filled his head to place the Eye of Ender in the frame. The very moment he did the world appeared to change around them - dozens of portal frames appearing on the horizon, encasing them in every direction. Every End portal in the Overworld began to glow, cementing their physical presence in the Between, and George felt a pull in his mind. It began to drain him of his own strength, he felt himself growing light headed and struggling to stand, forcing himself to use the last of his strength to move towards his brother’s body and reach out for his hand.  _ Together. They were doing this together. _

“You are the Universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code.”

As George lay himself beside his brother, feeling his breathing become slowly more laboured, he closed his eyes. The voices of his grandfather and mother followed him as he slipped out of consciousness, leaving his body resting motionlessly against Eret’s in the Between.

“I love you because you are love.”

Their mother’s voice was fading, the realm beginning to crumble and the connection the Gods still had to the living - their very spirits - began to weaken.

“The game is over, and the player will wake up from the dream. You will begin a new dream. You will dream again, dream better. You are the Universe, you are love. You are the player.”

Illumina’s voice disappeared, and their mother left one final message as the Gods and the pathways leading to their realms vanished. 

“Wake up.”

The Between ceased to be.

George and Eret woke up.

They were in the Overworld, their bodies tired and numb from the fighting and from the sheer effort it had taken to restore the portal. As they sat up, slowly but surely, they took in their surroundings. They were in a pit, a deep hole that stretched out both long and wide. In all directions, the side of the hole was almost impossible to see, but the gently sloping sides  _ did  _ exist. They were in the remains of a Stronghold, something they could ascertain from the End portal frame beside them. It was whole, filled with all twelve eyes, and provided access to the End, but neither wished to step into it and find out if it worked for fear they’d be trapped there without weapons or a way home. 

“Are we… Alive?”

Eret’s voice cut through the silence as George examined himself slowly. His skin was no longer Endflesh, he could see from both eyes with his usual protan colour blindness providing him with a strange kind of comfort. 

The goggles he’d been given were still on his person, tied to his belt, and he brought them to his face quickly and fastened them around his head. After blinking a few times and letting himself adjust to the lenses he could see more than just blues and yellows, the spectrum of colour opening up to him like it had before all of this had started, before Dream had died and he’d lost his goggles. He looked to Eret, taking in his appearance and letting himself smile at his brother.

“I think we are.”

Above them, the sky was beginning to clear and the sun was shining down on them. The cold of winter clung to them but neither man could bring themselves to care in that moment. They’d fixed the portal, they’d survived and were both uninjured. George broke first, a laugh erupting from his chest and leaving his lips with nothing but joy lighting up his face as he managed to get to his feet and move towards Eret quickly. His arms were open wide, and Eret stood himself up to return the favour, enveloping George into a tight embrace.

_ They survived, they’d done it. The Overworld was safe. _

# # #

Bad and Skeppy had been correct in their assumptions that the tsunami would have weakened the Endermen, but they seemed even weaker than they’d expected. The only rational explanation they could come up with came from Skeppy - that Eret and George had won their fight against Technoblade and they were now operating without a leader. It meant that, rather than a hard battle that brought them close to death on several occasions, the pair found that they were having to actively seek out the survivors from the wave. Endermen had always been a part of the Overworld, just never in particularly large numbers, but it was clear that the organised army they had faced at the beginning of the war had been devastated. 

As the water had receded, Humans and Pigmen began to regroup. The forest was utterly destroyed - almost everything had been either burnt or washed away - and they walked slowly through the debris towards the beach. It was clear from their walk that not everyone had made it to safety in time, and among the bodies of Endermen were corpses of people. Bad and Skeppy both knew too well that, right now, they had seen no trace of any of their friends. Skeppy knew of the fate that Sapnap had met, he knew that George and Eret had been away from the coast and hopefully - safe - but that left plenty of others unaccounted for. It would take an awful long time to scour this much land to find every single body, and there was no telling if people would even be identifiable.

While the fighting may have drawn to a close, there would be an awful lot of work to do in order to repair. 

As the clouds cleared overhead, they found themselves on the beach. The destruction here was less obvious, the waves having washed away most of the blood from the battle and the trees that had been uprooted were left cast aside further inland. With nothing but fish for company, the two men lowered themselves down to the sand and looked out to sea. The waves moved normally again and two silhouettes ran along the cobblestone platforms towards them: more survivors, thank  _ God _ . 

Skeppy rested his head on Bad’s shoulder and closed his eyes, and Bad wrapped his arm around him tightly. Nothing was attacking, there was nothing left to attack. The Dragon was gone, the clouds above clearing meant that the Wither, too, had gone. With the disarrayed state of few Endermen that remained, it had to mean that Technoblade had gone too. 

_ They’d won. _

# # #

When the ocean had calmed and the water had begun to still once more, Tubbo and Tommy had begun their journey back to land. They thanked the Guardians for their help (not that they could understand them) and carefully crossed the same cobblestone platforms as before. Without needing to run from monsters they could take their time, not wanting to slip and hurt themselves this close to the end. The Dragon was dead, the Wither that they’d seen on the horizon had disappeared from view entirely, and the beach appeared peaceful. 

There was joy on their faces as they jumped between the rocks, the knowledge that they’d  _ done it _ feeling more and more real with every step they took. 

Victory was so close, they could taste it.

The feeling of sand beneath their boots as they made the final jump had both men laughing, wet hair and clothes sticking to them but not dampening the moment or their spirits. They’d killed the Dragon, they’d made it back alive.

“We did it!” Tubbo exclaimed happily, laughing and raising his arms above his head. “We actually did it!”

Tommy laughed with him, and then he didn’t wait a moment longer. He wrapped his arms tightly around his best friend, pulling him close as they both laughed and whooped with joy. 

They’d done it.

They’d won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hey, the war is over! they won! only one chapter to go & then this is all over, three months of my life well spent i think haha! hope you're all still enjoying it & looking forward to the loose ends being tied up...


	14. A Funeral...

Eret and George had remained in each other’s arms for what felt like hours: the sky above them cleared of clouds and cold beams of sun shone down upon them. In the short time they had spent together over the last few days they had experienced terrifying revelations of their own identities, they had witnessed horrific acts of war and sacrifice, and somehow they had survived it all _together_. Now that the torment was over they had a moment to stop, to pause and to realise exactly what it all meant.

The war was won, the prophecy had been stopped in its tracks, they’d lived despite the promise of fate itself. They could be _brothers_ now, they could get to know each other, have a life that they’d never been able to anticipate, and the euphoria they felt was all-encompassing.

“I never want to let you go.” George whispered quietly, the first to break the silence with his words as he pressed his head firmly against his brother’s shoulder. “If I do, I might wake up. Everything we’ve done might just be a dream.”

“It’s real, I promise.” Eret replied, his hands gripping tightly onto George as he pulled the rest of his body back to look up at his brother. “I thought… I remembered you, I remembered you and our mother, Technoblade took that from us.” He admitted. “Took my memories, your powers, her life-”

“We’re okay.” George said, offering him a small smile. “We did it, he _can’t_ hurt us anymore.”

The distance between them closed again as the pair hugged again. This time they didn’t remain in their embrace position for quite as long, remembering that while they had won against Technoblade and against the prophecy itself that didn’t necessarily mean that the battle was over. They didn’t know how long they’d been gone, or what had happened in the Overworld in the meantime, and they could be returning to face any number of things. The peace they had been given told them that, if the war was still going on, the Overworld was holding its own. Nothing had come to kill them the moment they’d returned to the realm, and that in itself was a good sign.

When they finally felt compelled to explore, they attempted to teleport at the same time, and were confused when neither of them moved from where they stood.

Without bothering to search for an answer in the moment, the two walked towards the sloped sides of the hole and began to hike out instead. Walking might take a little while longer, but it meant they still got to where they needed to be.

Once on the surface they could truly appreciate the damage that had been done by the void - the huge crater that had been left in its wake spanning far and wide like a gigantic caldera - and they could see just how destroyed the world had been by the fighting that had taken place. Instead of wide fields of grass covered with a crisp, sharp frost, there was mud and blood and bodies. The familiar forest on the horizon - beyond what was left of the mountains - was nothing more than embers and ashes now, a few trees still gently smouldering. The sky was clear of Ghasts, there was no Dragon or Wither: for now it seemed like everything they laid their eyes on was the aftermath of a battle. 

They walked quietly, their strength slowly being sapped by the cold around them. Everything they’d been through had left them exhausted and all that kept them going was the desire to find their friends, to see if they’d all made it out alive, and as they neared the beach they became more and more concerned. They both knew what this kind of destruction meant - what it meant to have fish washed hundreds of meters inland, for trees to be torn out of the ground and for deep puddles of water to have been left stagnant on the waterlogged ground below. Neither of them wanted to voice their concerns, however. They’d be given the answers soon enough, for now they just kept pushing through.

Arriving on the beach itself was strange. By now it was clear that the war was over, that they’d _won_ , but there was no sense of victory in the first few moments. George was looking around desperately for his friends, for Sapnap and Bad and Skeppy, for _Dream_ if by some _wonderful_ twist of fate he’d survived… But he was met with no such luck. He could see Bad and Skeppy embracing and, closer to the water’s edge, the two young men they’d taken under their wing. For the moment he tried to focus on the positives, running towards his friends with Eret in tow, their heavy footsteps catching their attention and pulling them from their moment.

“George!” Bad gasped, moving away from Skeppy to quickly close the gap between them. He hadn’t seen George in what felt like a lifetime and the last time he had seen him, he’d been filled to the brim with worry. Now that there was peace, he took the opportunity to pull him close and hold him tightly. “You _muffinhead_ , I thought we’d lost you too!”

Eret and Skeppy exchanged a glance, Skeppy swallowing and shaking his head - he hadn’t told them just yet - but before anything else could be said two new voices joined the group.

“Is this it?” Tommy asked. “This is all that’s left?”

“There might still be more survivors.” Tubbo said. “We can search for them now, before it turns to night. Anyone that’s half drowned will freeze to death if we don’t find them soon.”

“We should look.” Eret agreed. “If you have Totems, give them to anyone you can find. One brought George back after he was already dead, it might be able to help save a few more people too.”

“You _died?!”_ Bad exclaimed, pulling back to look at George for a moment before squeezing him once more. They’d lost enough, things had been _bad enough_ over the last few months, more loss and pain wasn’t something the group needed to experience - least of all George. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story.” He said quietly, not quite sure if he wanted to talk about it yet. Before he explained what happened, he needed confirmation about Dream - to find him alive or to find a body - he didn’t want to tell the tale of their battle without knowing what had become of him. “Eret, come with me. We’ll search together.” 

George pulled out of the hug, looking to his brother for a moment and then back to his surviving friends. “Oh.” He said, letting himself smile just a little as he gestured over his shoulder. “This is my brother, Eret. He’s on our side, he killed Technoblade, you can trust him. We’ll look for Dream, you can search for Sapnap and--”

“Sapnap’s dead.” Skeppy said. As the others turned to him they saw his eyes scrunched up tightly, his fists balled up at his sides as he’d had to fight to get the words out. “Sapnap… We can’t bring him back. He can’t-- _I should’ve stopped him._ ”

“Skeppy…?” Bad asked quietly, looking towards the younger man with more questions than he dared to admit on his mind. He tried to be understanding, to give him the time he needed, but he wanted answers as much as the others. “What happened when the two of you went your own way?”

“We went to the Nether.” Skeppy managed to croak out, opening up his eyes and locking onto Bad before him. Eret had already heard the story once, he’d already seen the tears and the sorrow that accompanied it, but he kept his distance. This wasn’t his story to tell. “We went to the Nether, he wouldn’t tell me his plan, just insisted that I do as he said. He wanted to make the Wither, went into a Fortress alone and had two Wither Skeletons chase him out while I grabbed soul sand. When we came back to the Overworld he let one of them _hit him_ , and the beacon kept him alive but he still _withered_ . He asked me to… _Told me_ to behead him, to use his skull, he thought he’d be able to control the Wither if his head was one of the skulls used to make it. If I didn’t do it he was just going to suffer until he finally died, I couldn’t just leave him in pain without knowing how much longer it’d be, I didn’t have a choice. He didn’t _give me a choice_.”

The reaction among the group was muted, all slowly processing what had been revealed to them. Bad’s first instinct was, of course, to pull Skeppy close as he cried. The pair slowly lowered themselves to the ground as Skeppy sobbed into Bad’s shoulder and Bad himself began to cry as he whispered words of reassurance to Skeppy - that it wasn’t his fault, that no one would blame him, that there was nothing to be done. George was in shock, trying to organise things in his head.

A matter of weeks ago, he’d been in the Nether fighting with Sapnap. He had been ready to kill him. He’d seen him as a liability, as weak, and while they’d apologised and moved on something had shifted in their relationship. They didn’t trust like they used to, or joke like they once had together, things were different and George felt sick to the core knowing that he’d never be able to undo all the damage he’d caused.

“George?” Eret’s voice was quiet, almost afraid to speak up as he watched his brother closely. “Are you--”

“We need to find Dream.” He said defiantly. He didn’t give a damn about what the odds said, about what had already happened and what fate had in store for them, he _refused_ to lose both Dream and Sapnap. If he didn’t have them, what did he have?

The search began quietly. Tommy and Tubbo began to comb the beach together, searching for Totems of Undying that had been unused in the commotion, while Eret and George began the disheartening task of searching for Dream’s body. With every motionless figure they found that wasn’t Dream, there would be another family utterly heartbroken. As time dragged on - moving slower than George had ever felt before - Eret began to wonder if George was losing hope. He seemed much quicker to snap than before, his movements sharp and tense as tiredness began to catch up with him and added to the turmoil he felt, but Eret didn’t mention it. He didn’t want to be the straw that broke George, not when so much _good_ was finally on the horizon. They just had to get through a few more painful hours or days and then healing could begin. 

The tension was eventually broken: Tommy approached with a Totem in his hand and held it out for the pair of them. If they could find Dream, they could bring him back, and that knowledge alone seemed to be enough to brighten George’s movements once more. He searched faster, even found the strength to call out a name on the off chance that Dream was not only alive but _conscious_ and _walking_ , though that, too, soon passed.

When they headed inland a little - just enough so that sandy dunes were replaced with cold, boggy grassland - the tone shifted again. If they never found a body, they would never know what had truly happened to Dream, his fate would remain _assumed_ and Eret knew that would be so much worse for George than if they found him and were unable to bring him back. The sun was beginning to set, they needed to find some kind of shelter for the night with the other survivors, but as Eret rested his hand on George’s shoulder he felt his older brother pull away quickly.

“I’m not leaving him out here alone.”

“George--”

“If he is here, I have to find him. If it’s not safe for us to remain out here then why would it be safe for him?”

“I…” 

Eret blinked, swallowed, and realised that he had no real answer to his question. He didn’t have the answers to a lot of questions he wanted to ask, but this was the important one, this was the one that would keep George safe.

“George, Eret!” A voice called from a short distance away - Bad’s voice - and the pair were pulled from their own conversation as they heard faint shouts of Skeppy calling for Tommy and Tubbo. They shared a glance of hope, a gesture that in itself almost felt forbidden given the enormity of the odds they were up against, and George began to run in the direction of their friends.

It could be, _if he just believed that there was a chance it could be…_

“Dream?” He whispered, recognising the body in the evening light and dropping to his knees a few paces away from him, crawling on all fours through waterlogged ground as his eyes scanned over the body that lay before him. It was Dream, _of course_ it was Dream, and George was hit with a wave of terror as memories from before crept into mind. He remembered cradling his body at the bottom of the ravine mere months ago, examining the freckles on his face and holding him like if he let go he might disappear. Tears sprung to his eyes and he didn’t bother to fight them, letting them fall as he looked at the state the man lay in now. 

His hair was matted with dirt and blood, still wet from the ocean, and his clothes were sodden. George knew that he would have been cold given how long he’d likely been dead by now, but the water had only served to make that so much worse. It had, in a strange way, been a blessing. Keeping him cold meant that his body was better preserved, that it would be so much easier to bring him back if they could, and through tears George reached to pull him into his lap.

The others kept their distance - pained expressions on their faces but hope uniting them all. There was a chance that this would work, they weren’t ready to mourn just yet.

“Dream…” George’s voice was weak as he shifted himself to rest Dream’s head in the crook of his elbow, holding him with one arm while his free hand clung tightly to the Totem of Undying. This was it, the moment of truth, the only chance they had to bring him back. He moved Dream’s hand to press against the Totem, not letting go himself and instead cherishing the closeness that they shared. After all, this could still be the last moment they had together.

“Please, don’t let this be too late.” He whispered. George let his body sag forward, his forehead resting against Dream’s and his eyes closing as tears trickled down from his own face onto Dream’s cold skin. He didn’t care what happened when he woke up - he could turn around and try to murder him with his bare hands if he so wished - he just _needed_ Dream to wake up.

What felt like seconds to the others were hours to George, and every ounce of hope that had once filled him disappeared.

And then, he felt his hand press against Dream’s.

He opened his eyes, his breath hitching in his throat as he managed to piece together what had happened: the Totem had disappeared, their hands were touching and their fingers were linked, and George heard the most beautiful sound the Universe could offer up. Coughing, spluttering, _desperate breathing_ from the man in his arms as he jolted upright suddenly and the two of them became tangled together. 

Everything happened so quickly it was damn near a miracle that they didn’t headbutt each other or poke an eye out with their shoulders, but George pulled a barely conscious Dream into his arms and held him as tightly as he physically could.

There was a long moment of silence, George so overcome with emotion that he was utterly unable to speak and Dream so filled with confusion that he didn’t know _what_ to say. All he knew was that after a moment of being held by George he felt more arms wrapping around him and warmth enveloping him from all sides. He eventually dared to open his eyes, twisting his head to see that Bad and Skeppy had joined the embrace. Three men stood further back - Eret he recognised but the two younger he didn’t know. 

“You’re okay.” Bad whispered reassuringly as George still couldn’t find his voice, and his hold tightened as he spoke as if to emphasize his point. “You’re okay, Dream, you’re _back_. We won.”

# # # 

The group took shelter a short distance away from where they’d found Dream’s body. Tommy, Tubbo and Eret worked together to build a lean-to with the debris that had been left behind by the tsunami while Bad and Skeppy tried to light a fire and George filled Dream in on what had happened. He kept his summary very light touch, not wanting to leave Dream feeling guilty while he got his bearings. At some point, there needed to be harder conversations between them, but that night hadn’t been the time for it. 

George and Eret had been the first to awake in the morning, everyone utterly drained from the fighting of the last few days and desperate for every moment of sleep they could obtain. The brothers left the shelter quietly, the cold morning sun beating down on their shoulders as they walked together through the remains of the forest. Some was burned, some was drowned, and it made for strange scenery as they walked silently towards a shared, unspoken goal.

The forest here was much more burned than drowned - some trees were still smouldering and branches that were precariously clinging to their trunks were cracking and falling. While the worst of the damage had been done and most of the destruction was over, aftershocks were still being felt. As the ground beneath their feet became more and more distorted, and the land more scarred, they reached their destination. 

It was terrifyingly empty.

The scene of the final battle between Gods was hauntingly quiet. Untold forces had fought in the very spot the two now stood - Gods of the Overworld and the End battling each other with the Wither and a half dozen Ghasts in the sky above - and yet it was peaceful. The wind blew steadily through the branches of the trees that still stood, sun shone on the frost and slowly melted the thin layer of ice that covered mounds of mud, it seemed _normal_. 

There was no sign of the bodies of either Technoblade or Illumina, the two men overturning every stone they could find in case there was something left behind - a crown, a sword, _something_ to prove that their family had ever existed at all. The battlefield was barren. 

Any trace of their father and grandfather was gone, any proof that the Gods had ever existed had vanished along with their own powers.

Whatever they had done in the Between, whatever had been sacrificed to put a stop to the prophecy, the ramifications would be felt in far more ways than either of them had initially expected. Without knowing what they’d sacrificed for peace to be brought to the Universe, they could only hope it was worth it.

“He was our grandfather.”

Eret blinked, turning to look at George from where he stood several metres away. “What?”

“Illumina. He was our grandfather.”

There was silence between the two men as Eret processed the words. More family that had been taken from him, memories that might never return and bridges he’d never be able to mend. 

“We can still say goodbye to him, properly.” Eret said eventually, trying to find a solution to his hurt that didn’t involve bitterness or hatred. He wanted to be better than his father, he wouldn’t let his emotions push him to do something that could harm others, and this felt like the most constructive idea in the moment. “We have to say goodbye to a lot of people, have to honour their memories, for those with bodies to mourn we can bury them but those that we’ve lost completely still deserve our thanks.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before it was too late.” George replied, biting down on his bottom lip. As much as losing Illumina hurt, he couldn’t help but realise that he had been luckier than Eret: he had grown to know the man and have a relationship with him, but Eret would never be given the luxury of knowing his family. 

“We should head back.” Eret said quietly. They needed to remain together as much as possible, to gather a group of survivors and begin to rebuild what they could. When the Wither had been summoned it had taken out the beacon but the state of the rest of the village was still undetermined, though it was difficult to assume that the buildings would have remained undamaged. Only time would tell what those that had lived through the war would face next, but facing it together would be their best chance of not only surviving - but thriving.

The future would be bright if they stuck together and made it that way.

# # # 

The next few days passed in a blur. What had started out as a group of seven quickly grew as more and more survivors joined their ragtag band and they began to walk slowly inland. They deliberately spread out as much as possible, walking slowly through the forest to search for anyone that could be injured or alone. The more time that passed, the less survivors that they found, and before long every Totem of Undying that had been found was used. The moment of realisation that they could no longer bring back the people they found was one that rested heavily on all their shoulders, and for those that were unidentifiable or without family or friends to mourn them, a simple cross was made of sticks and their bodies buried with as much dignity and respect as possible. Those that had people to mourn were given heartfelt farewells, with tears shed and thanks given for their sacrifice. The number of dead was staggering, it was painful to think about, but their deaths had not been in vain. They’d died to help win the war, they’d given those still alive a chance of tomorrow.

A chance that no one wished to waste.

Upon returning to the village it became obvious just how badly damaged the settlement was. Where the beacon had once stood now remained a deep hole, and countless buildings had burnt down entirely. There was a question of whether or not that was due to the Wither or the wreckage of End Ships that seemed to litter the area, but the answer wouldn’t change the result. The destruction was the same, no matter what caused it.

The buildings that still stood were checked over slowly, and once people were certain as to how structurally sound they were they began to organise shelters. Bad and Skeppy took the lead, taking papers from the church (that, for the most part, was still standing) and making records of everyone that was with them. Accounting for people now would make it easier to plan how to rebuild the village and what sort of people they needed in place to help support the community. Tommy, Tubbo and Eret helped them put their plan into action, while George and Dream busied themselves elsewhere.

Sapnap had, for years, been their best friend. He had been a crucial part of their lives, a confidant and a brother and he’d given his life so willingly, hoping that the rest of them would live to experience the future. When they’d been in a larger group it was hard to notice just how much it hurt, but with the two of them walking side by side and the tension between them palpable, Sapnap’s absence was painfully obvious. 

Knowing that they were unable to bring him back, the two searched for a body to mourn and to bury. What they found in the rubble - twisted from the explosion and withered away - was an image neither would be able to forget. And yet despite how awful it was their reactions were almost non-existent as Dream took it upon himself to carry the remains of Sapnap with them.

Rather than bury him, they elected to cremate him. A decision had been taken to build a new settlement a short way from the ruins of the village and without knowing where their new home would be, they chose not to pick a permanent spot for his body.

Without finding a body for Illumina, and with no trace of a6d in the days since the fighting had finished, the small group took Sapnap’s ashes on a journey. Dream led, with George and Eret behind him, Bad and Skeppy behind them, and Tommy and Tubbo following at the back of the group. There was no conversation as boots steadily ascended the frozen slopes of the grassy knoll they’d chosen to say goodbye from, each man silently remembering their friend. The emotions that had been missing when Sapnap’s body had been found were now out in the open: silent tears had been trickling down faces for much of the walk and those that could found comfort in each other. While Bad and George had someone beside them to hold their hand, Dream walked ahead alone. It wasn’t as though his friends _weren’t_ there for him, they simply understood that Dream was suffering in a different way to them. His friendship with Sapnap had been the deepest by far, the decade they’d shared together filled with memories of the past and hopes for the future. They had been inseparable, and the guilt and grief that Dream experienced was obvious for all to see.

As soon as he was ready to talk, his friends would be there for him, but they gave him the space and time that he needed for now. 

A quiet sniffle broke the silence, Eret turning his head to the side to identify that it had come from George. His hand balled up into a fist as he wiped at his eyes and used his sleeve to clean the mucus that ran from his nose. Eret moved closer to his brother, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and giving him a tight squeeze.

“Do you want to talk about it at all?” He asked quietly, a small sob leaving George’s lips. Eret came to a halt, peeling off with George and making eye contact with Tommy to silently convey that they’d catch up later. As their friends continued to walk he sat on the ground, helping George to sit beside him and letting his brother curl into his side as tears flowed freely now and his sobs became louder and his breathing more difficult. Eret ran one hand up and down his back, trying to offer him what little comfort he could. He didn’t want to say anything just yet, he wanted George to take the lead and didn’t want to push him to do so. 

After a short while, his sobs became quieter again and George managed to slowly bring his breathing back under control - just enough for him to begin to piece together words and form muffled sentences.

“I’m scared he died hating me.” He eventually uttered, moving closer to his brother and feeling the hold on him tighten. “When all of this started, when Dream had died and we were trying to find a way to get him back, there was a voice in my head. Our father’s voice. He wanted me to do horrible things, made me fight with Sapnap, and I told him that I should have killed him. I told him that he was useless, that he was nothing, I almost murdered him in cold blood. What if he died thinking that everything our father made me say was true?”

Without having an answer for that, Eret just pulled George closer still and rested his head atop his brother’s. He closed his eyes and let out a breath, trying to find some kind of consolation he could offer. He hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen the fight or heard the conversations that had happened since.

“He knew what happened, right?” Eret asked, feeling George nod his head. “Then if he held any kind of hatred, it was towards Technoblade, not you. You were friends, as much as it would’ve hurt to hear those words come from you if he knew that someone else was making you say that - someone as cruel and powerful as our father - then he would be worried about you, not angry. His death helped us win the war, helped us destroy Technoblade, he would have thought his death to be a worthy sacrifice.”

“But it didn’t have to be, right? He could’ve just made a normal Wither, he didn’t have to _become_ the Wither. He didn’t have to _die_.”

“We don’t know that.” Eret admitted quietly. “But we can’t change what happened. It just means that we have to prove that it was worth it - build a world that Sapnap would be proud of.”

George’s sniffles continued against his chest, but the conversation didn’t. The pair remained where they sat on the slope for some time, George eventually making the move to stand back up and looking to see how far their friends had travelled without them. They were almost at the top and George was quick to set off after them once more. He knew they would wait for them all to arrive before they said their goodbyes, but he didn’t want to keep them waiting. Eret followed George closely, the pair making up ground and arriving at the summit of the hill before too much time passed.

At the top of the hill the cold of winter was even more bitter - with nothing to prevent the howling winds biting at their skin and sending a chill down their spines. They could see over the tops of the ruined forest and out to the ocean, and to the west they could see the ruins of the village, the battlefield, what was left of the mountains that hadn’t been eaten up by the void. To the east, following the coast, was a potential new home for the community. Open land that had been far less damaged by the battle, with animals dotted around the landscape that they could corral and farm and plenty of space to grow crops: it would be a much nicer place to settle. 

The wind was blowing in that direction, it almost seemed fitting that Sapnap - whose death had given them the chance to rebuild - would show them where to go next.

“Does anyone want to say anything?” Tommy asked. He, Tubbo and Eret knew the least of Sapnap and while they knew that his sacrifice was noble and heartbreaking, they didn’t feel the same pain as those that had known him for years. The question was met with silence, though not for the lack of care: it simply seemed utterly unreal that they stood in the position they were in, that they were saying goodbye to one of their closest friends for good.

“Thank you, Sapnap.” Bad mustered up, his voice strained as he fought back tears to speak. “We couldn’t have done this without you. You saved all of our lives, everyone that’s alive today is alive because of you. Thank you.”

Skeppy’s hand tightened around Bad’s, his face burying itself in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” He whispered. “We owe you everything.”

“Your death wasn’t in vain.” George said quietly, Eret’s arm around his shoulders the only thing that really kept him standing. “We’ll never forget what you’ve done for us. Not just in this war, but everything. You were our friend, we won’t forget that.”

Dream remained silent through it all, turning to face his friends as they fell quiet again. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his face wet from tears and the skin on his bottom lip pierced from where his teeth had been biting over and over again. He waited a moment in case anyone else had anything to say, but when given no reply he simply removed the lid from the small urn of Sapnap’s ashes and took a deep breath. He had his own goodbyes to say, but he would keep them for when he was alone.

Swallowing, he lifted the urn higher and turned it upside down, watching as the ashes it held fell out and were quickly picked up by a gust of wind. They watched in silence as Sapnap’s remains were carried east, blowing away quickly and separating as they flew. What began as a dense, dark clump soon broke apart and was no longer identifiable or visible to the naked eye. Dream liked to think that he’d been able to keep track of at least one or two grains and that he was still following them in the distance, watching the last of his friend travelling out into the world. 

He wasn’t sure if it was seconds or minutes that had passed, but clouds began to obscure the sun overhead and he sat down on a small rocky outcrop at the edge of the hilltop, his legs crossing and his hands moving to his face. Fresh tears were leaking from his eyes, though at this point there was no reason to stop them or to pretend they weren’t there. Even if there was a point to it, he wasn’t sure he could do it or that he even cared enough _to_ do it.

No one approached Dream as he cried. 

Tommy and Tubbo didn’t stay for long: they felt as though they were intruding on a moment that they shouldn’t have been privy to in the first place. Eret remained a short while longer, saying silent goodbyes to a grandfather that he’d never had the chance to know. He looked to George before he left, but a small shake of his head indicated that he wanted to stay longer and so he too began to make his way back to the village.

Skeppy and Bad mourned Sapnap, a friend they both dearly missed, but it didn’t stop their minds from remembering the third member of their group. a6d had been missing since the night of the first battle: a fight that had been particularly bloody and had resulted in significant losses for the Overworld. If, as they suspected, he had died then, there would be almost no chance of finding a body that they could identify and say goodbye to. Their hands remained linked throughout their own silent memorial, and as they turned to leave they stayed that way. With their departure, Dream and George were the only two still sitting at the top of the hill as the sky began to darken.

“Dream-”

“Will you leave?” Dream asked quietly. His words were sharp, but there was no malice behind them. “Please.”

“Will you come back?” George asked softly, and Dream nodded. He didn’t look around to answer George, but his promise was enough for the older man. Dream felt a hand resting on his shoulder and squeezing tightly, before a kiss was pressed into his hair. As quickly as it had begun the touch disappeared, and footsteps faded into the distance as George, too, left. 

Dream was alone on the hill, the sun setting behind him and the sky before him fading into a series of different, darker blues. 

It was strange just how much the world seemed to reflect how he felt in that moment: cold, dark, and alone. Without Sapnap by his side he swore he felt the cold much more acutely, and it was as though if he heard his laugh he would feel so much warmer and safer. He closed his eyes, lying back on the rocks and letting himself sit in his memories for a while.

He remembered a day on the beach - a memory that he’d clung to only a short while ago when he’d been running from Illagers and searching for a way to bring Bad back. He remembered that he and Sapnap had been swimming with dolphins, he remembered their laughter and the way they’d collapsed on the sand as the sun set and warmth covered their bodies while they talked. The sunset was cold now, and the talks of hopes and dreams for the future lay in shambles. Sapnap would never have what he’d wanted - he’d never fall in love, never get to explore the world on his own terms, never have children to pass on his own knowledge of redstone to. He’d never done any of those things, he was too young to have suffered the fate he did and Dream was stuck between two mindsets: anger that the Universe had taken those opportunities from him, or determination that _he_ could do all those things. Sapnap could live on in him, his memory could be upheld and honoured.

But that didn’t mean it would hurt any less.

Dream didn’t bother to move from where he rested. Eventually, he fell asleep on the cold ground and spent the night out in the open. No harm came to him - he wasn’t sure if that was luck or if someone or something was keeping him safe - but when he awoke shivering from the cold in the morning he sat up quickly, hugging himself to warm up a little and rubbing his eyes as he squinted into the sunrise.

Sapnap’s ashes had landed somewhere in the east. Darkness had fallen quickly the night before as Dream sat and mourned his friend, but with the sun rising on his promise to honour his memory he felt warmth sinking into his bones. 

He got to his feet slowly, rubbing his hands together quickly to create friction and heat to warm himself up as he looked over to the grasslands - the sun shining down and making frost sparkle like diamonds below. There was an awful lot of work that needed to be done, but together they could rebuild. Dream would make sure that the world they built would be something Sapnap could be proud of, something worth the sacrifice he made.

He would be remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops apparently two weeks passes real quick when you're feeling like crap! sorry i haven't updated this sooner, thank you all for waiting so patiently! this *was* originally going to be one final chapter however what you're reading now is less than half of what i had planned & is about 6.5k long, so to avoid a 15k chapter i decided to split them in two. that means that the sadder stuff is here, but the next chapter is going to be filled with lots of hope & happiness as they begin to rebuild & look to the future. might even have a cameo in... ;D
> 
> as always, feel free to yell at me in the comments. we've got one final chapter to go & i promise you that being yelled at in the comments gives me the motivation i need to keep going! love you all!


	15. ...& The Future

Beginning to rebuild the village didn’t take long. Within a few days of the survivors all being accounted for and the grassland to the east scouted out by volunteers, people began to build. Corrals came first, fence posts being erected and animals guided inside. Despite it still being the dead of winter, those that had farmed before the war came together to start putting land aside for agriculture when spring eventually came around. Seeds were found in the wreckage of the old village and in the surrounding areas, and they were categorised and stored safely. 

New buildings began to appear. Stone was mined from a nearby cave so as not to damage the landscape too much and used to build cobble paths and the foundations of buildings, with wooden frames rising above as dark logs were harvested from the nearby forest and used to build the walls and floors of what would become homes, schools, shops, and churches. Saplings were replanted as they went, the destruction of the landscape from the efforts of war had reminded people just how important it was to care for the world that they lived in. People came together to contribute however they could with the rebuilding efforts, and anything that had survived the destruction of the previous village that could still be used - beds, furniture, and ores - were stockpiled. Fires were lit around the new village as mobs began to return at night, with shifts being taken by the stronger fighters to keep people safe until homes were completed. 

Even after suffering such horrific losses and experiences of war, people still found a way to unite and survive together.

It was two days after saying goodbye to Sapnap that Dream began to speak to his friends properly again. They had wanted to give him space, but the joy they felt when he approached them all and pulled them into hugs, thanking them for everything they had done, was something they’d never be able to replicate. George clung to him longer than the others, squeezing tighter and pressing his head against the taller man’s neck to create a sense of intimacy. It wasn’t the same as it had been before - it wouldn’t be for a long time - but he needed Dream to know that the love he felt for the man hadn’t disappeared. With closed eyes and close bodies, he felt as though the warmth they shared meant the message had gotten across.

They decided to name the hill beside the village  _ St. Nick’s Hill _ , in honour of Sapnap. His real name had been used sparsely between his friends over the years but using it now felt right. His martyrdom was deserving of sainthood in the eyes of both Eret and George - and who other than children of the End and the Overworld to award him such a title? He deserved to be remembered and respected, and his final resting place being named in his honour was one way they could do that.

It helped them to begin to move on with their lives, knowing that Sapnap would  _ always  _ be there in some way. Moving on didn’t mean forgetting Sapnap, it meant finding a way to continue their lives without his physical presence. 

As they helped to construct the new village, they rebuilt their friendships and trust in each other. Dream was slowly forgiven by the survivors for what he’d done - and when they realised that he’d been no more than a puppet for the God of the End himself they’d shown concern rather than fear: they all knew what Technoblade had been capable of even if they didn’t have first hand experience with him.

It was just over a week later that Skeppy and Bad told them of their plans to get married. They hadn’t kept it from their friends deliberately, but it had never seemed like the right moment to tell them. When they did eventually confess, the celebrations extended far beyond their immediate friendship group - something as wonderful as an engagement coming out of war was something that  _ everyone  _ felt the need to rejoice in. Tommy and Tubbo had been missing for most of the rest of the day, and when they returned under the night sky they came with their backpacks full of fireworks. The village had sat out under constellations and watched as colour filled the world, people sitting with their loved ones and staying awake far longer than usual as light illuminated the land around them. Despite the celebrations being  _ for  _ them, Bad and Skeppy had been some of the first to retire. George and Dream sat hand in hand beside Eret, the brothers enjoying the show, while Tommy and Tubbo had taken on the responsibility of setting up the fireworks. The celebrations continued long into the night, the two youngest finally collapsing into their beds far beyond midnight and sleeping past noon.

Time marched on, and the days continued much of the same. Tommy and Tubbo would head out on their adventures to bring things back to the village - more often than not they brought back things that would help with the efforts to rebuild but they tried as much as possible to bring things to raise the morale of people living there too. On one occasion they left for several days (having made sure Bad knew in advance, as he worried far too much over the safety of all the survivors) and returned with cocoa beans. The village had enjoyed hot chocolate and cookies for days: it was a small gesture but it warmed the spirits of everyone.

This time, the two had once again been gone for several days, but instead of returning with a sweet treat or rucksacks full of gems from the caves below the surface they came back covered in dirt and bruises, their hair and clothes singed but wide smiles on their faces.

“You’ll  _ never  _ guess what we’ve got.” Tubbo had said brightly, their faces contrasting harshly against the horrified look of worried villagers as Tommy shrugged his backpack off his shoulder and reached in to pull out the small, glowing object.

“Is that--” Skeppy began, trailing off as Dream seemed to finish his thought.

“A nether star?” He whispered. 

“We thought you might want to build another beacon.” Tommy shrugged, his voice cocksure and his smile wide as if the fight had been  _ easy _ . The smile didn’t last for long, though, as a familiar voice came from the crowd.

“You killed a  _ Wither?” _

“Wilbur!” Tommy said, the nether star returned to his bag as he straightened his back. The older man squeezed through the crowd, hair flopping in front of his face and mouth slightly ajar as he stared at the two young men before him.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

“If we said we killed the Ender Dragon too, would that make it better?” Tubbo asked, and Wilbur’s attention turned to the other quickly.

“Why would knowing the two of you fought  _ two  _ dangerous creatures make me feel any better? You disappeared, I’ve been so worried!” He said, and as he strode quickly to close the distance between them the traces of anger and shock faded, his face now filled with nothing more than worry as his arms wrapped around the two tightly. “Don’t you  _ ever  _ do that to me again, I’d have come with you if you’d told me!”

Tommy immediately returned the gesture, wrapping his own arms around his older brother with all the strength he could summon. He would never admit aloud that he’d missed Wilbur during the battle, but he’d be damned if he hadn’t felt it. He rested his head on his brother’s shoulder, feeling Tubbo’s arms wrap around them both too. They might not have been related by blood, but Tubbo was just as much a part of their family as he was.

“We won’t do it again Wil, I promise.” Tommy said sincerely: that was going to be the closest he would go to admitting that scaring his brother was something that upset him. Instead of any kind of verbal reply, he felt Wilbur’s hold of them tighten for a moment and he let himself smile into the embrace. With the three reuniting, the villagers and their friends had gone back to work in order to give them the privacy that they deserved for the moment.

“I was terrified when I realised where you’d gone.” He said quietly, pulling back to look at the two younger boys and taking in a shaky breath. “You’ve killed an Ender Dragon and a Wither? Do you realise how  _ difficult _ that is?”

“We helped save people.” Tubbo said. “It was worth it.”

“I am so proud of you both.” Wilbur replied. “But please,  _ never  _ do that again.”

“We won’t.” Tommy promised, offering Wilbur a smile before pulling him back into the hug from before. They weren’t often open with their emotions, and very rarely shared moments of physical affection like this, but the silent bond that the two held was screaming at Tommy to just hold his brother a little bit longer - they both needed to know that the other was there in that moment. And hell, who was he to say no?

# # # 

As the village took shape, several volunteers took to the ocean in boats to sail across to an island. They had wanted to wait until enough had been rebuilt before they brought those that had evacuated from the war home, to make sure that they would be returning to somewhere that was safe and warm. With such heavy losses in the battles, a number of the children returning would be coming home to discover that they had lost a parent, an aunt or an uncle, and their community needed to be ready to help the children through the shock of it all. The full story of the war would one day be taught to them, but for most what would be needed upon arrival was someone they could trust to hold them close, a roof over their head to protect them from the world and a renewed sense of normality. 

It would take time to truly return to normal, but the war had been fought to give them all a future and now they had the opportunity to shape what that future would look like.

While only one boat had left, several returned, and the children from before stepped onto shore timidly. None of them seemed to know what to expect, they weren’t returning to the village that they’d left and the crowd that awaited their arrival was much smaller than many had anticipated.

Some children, the lucky ones, were able to run across sandy dunes and into the arms of relieved parents who broke down into sobs and wrapped their arms around their children, relief filling their bodies as weeks of pain and separation finally paid off. The joy on their faces and in their voices didn’t quite filter through to the others: those without parents or friends standing before them left stood at the water’s edge. 

Among them was a girl that the group recognised. 

Little Lucy had grown in the last few weeks - she’d clearly undergone a growth spurt since leaving the mainland and her trousers were high on her ankles, the sleeves of her shirt too short to reach her wrists. She stood with a little bag over her shoulder - a leather satchel filled with her favourite pebbles and seashells from the island that she’d gathered - examining the crowd for either her parents or for Sapnap. Her eyes had scanned the faces before her several times before filling with tears and widening as she came to realise that the people she had loved and left behind were no longer there to welcome her home. 

Closing her eyes and balling her hands up, she began to cry. What else was a child to do? Her parents were gone, Sapnap was gone:  _ he had promised her that everything would be okay and he’d lied _ , she was alone… 

Except she wasn’t  _ entirely  _ alone. As sobs began to fall from her eyes a familiar barking came from behind her and a dog bounded out from one of the boats, splashing his paws in the ocean for a moment before running on shore and up to Lucy, his snout nuzzling her side affectionately to try and offer the young girl some kind of comfort. While she cried, she turned to the dog she’d developed a camaraderie with and wrapped her arms around his head, resting her own cheek atop his fur and sniffling as the tears continued to fall.

After a moment of comfort found in George the dog’s fur, a soft hand rested on Lucy’s shoulder and she pulled back just a little to look up. Her sobs still came thick and fast as she gazed at the two men kneeling before her, hiccuping as she tried to breathe.

“Hello.” Bad said quietly, his thumb brushing over her arm gently to give her something to ground herself with as her attention focused on himself and Skeppy. One of her own hands moved to her face, an open palm messily wiping away the trails of tears on her cheeks only to be quickly replaced with fresh ones. “My name is Bad, this is Skeppy. I don’t know if you remember us.”

Skeppy gave a little wave, not quite as sure of what to do as Bad seemed to be when it came to consoling an upset child, but still wanting to do his best to help the little girl. After all, he’d need to learn soon.

“We know you must be feeling scared right now, scared and alone, but it’s okay. We’re here for you.” Skeppy said, trying to keep his tone as gentle and reassuring as he could. “We were friends with Sapnap, he saved all of us, even you.”

“And we think, to thank him for everything he did for us, that we should keep an eye on you.” Bad told her with a gentle smile. “I know you might not trust us straight away, that it might be a little bit difficult to get used to us at first but--”

Bad’s sentence ended abruptly, the words leaving his mind entirely when he felt small arms wrapping around him tightly and muffled sobs pouring out against his chest. Instinctively, he moved his own arms around Lucy and held her close. While she’d clearly formed a bond with Sapnap, she seemed to recognise both himself and Skeppy enough to trust them and he’d waste no time now.

“I’ve got you.” He muttered quietly, glancing to the side and giving Skeppy a small gesture with his head to encourage him to join in. As his arms, too, surrounded the pair Bad sighed quietly, giving Lucy another tight squeeze. “We’ve both got you, we aren’t going anywhere Lucy. You’re safe now, I promise.”

Settling into this new life together - a family that none of them would have ever imagined having a matter of months ago - would take time. It would be difficult. Both Skeppy and Bad knew there would be bumps in the road, that there would be arguments and there would be times when Lucy would be upset for the parents that she had once had - that they could never truly replace - but the two of them had chosen to spend the rest of their lives together and bringing Lucy into their family had been such an easy decision to make. Not only did caring for the child mean she would grow up with two loving parents, but it meant that Sapnap’s own wishes for a family wouldn’t fade away. The child he had cared so wonderfully for would know the sacrifices he made for her - for all of them - and she would know his name. 

But for now, the trio made no move from where they kneeled together on the beach. They’d stay there for as long as they needed to, until the dark of night chased them into their small home in the village and the three could sit by the fire until Lucy found sleep. George the dog had followed them, too, inseparable from Lucy after their weeks away from the mainland together. While Skeppy and Bad hadn’t  _ planned  _ to take in a dog as well as a daughter, they could hardly turn him away, and the dog was asleep on the floor of their home as the fire turned from warm, crackling flames to dull, spitting embers. They had a room set aside for their new daughter but they had no intentions of sleeping separately just yet: until she had mourned the loss of her parents fully, they wanted to be there to provide the comfort that she needed at all hours of the day. Besides, Lucy fit snugly between her new parents - both Skeppy and Bad wrapping one arm around her protectively as they slept - and she had no intentions of leaving the safety of their loving embrace any time soon.

# # # 

The structures in the new village were completed before long and with the return of the children, things were quickly getting back to normal once more. As the days began to gradually become longer Dream and George packed bags of supplies and armour, one final adventure on the horizon for the two of them. They said goodbyes to their friends: long hugs filled them with warmth and stern warnings to stay safe and come home soon were given. With promises made that they would make it back as soon as possible, they had begun their long walk along the coast with the entire village watching them go. 

With their absence, Eret and Bad were looked to by all as their leaders. Bad continued his work to help with any efforts related to the village itself - he helped with schooling some of the younger children and coordinating the building of wells and mines - while Eret worked to solidify relations with those that had helped them to win the war. For some time the villagers would remain in debt to the Illagers, but working together to win the war seemed to have improved relationships with them enough to slowly but surely begin to give them the emeralds that they desired. The creatures in the Nether had expressed their desire to be called Piglins, and Eret had returned to the realm with the last of the gold owed to them.

He remembered the first time he’d stepped foot in the Nether. It had been a barren wasteland, red rock underfoot only ever punctuated by the existence of quartz or a Fortress, but now the realm had come to life entirely. He was glad that his father had been stopped in his tracks, that the Nether  _ hadn’t  _ been wiped out in war and left to die, especially now he could see the potential for life that had always been there. Trees grew high above, with vines and mushrooms making the world feel so much more welcoming. He knew that wasn’t the case - he’d had to quickly climb some vines to escape something that resembled a wild boar - but maybe with time it could be. In the distance he could see pillars of basalt towering high above the lava fields, and the remains of a Fortress collapsing down below. There was so much to explore here now, so much more life to be found, and as he presented the last of the gold ingots to them the Piglins appeared to smile. 

Despite the fact that the gold had been given to them as a thanks for joining in the fight against the End, the Piglins had presented him with a disc. Eret couldn’t deny that he was a little confused by the gesture - it left him wondering just how alike Humans and Piglins were to have developed the same technology over time - but he took it with a smile and thanked them once more for both their help and their kindness. 

Eret returned to the Overworld promptly, not wishing to be caught out again by the creatures that wished to harm him, and emerged in daylight. While they had abandoned the old village they still used its portal, and that meant a walk home over the hill or through the forest. With the days becoming longer it wouldn’t be long before the trees began to bud and blossom, and flowers began to grow, and he hoped that the arrival of spring would mark a turning point in the village - a chance for optimism and hope to truly bloom. Since the war had ended everyone had come together and had clung to the little things to get them through, but the cold in the air and the dark nights had made it a little harder than originally expected. Spring would be a welcome change.

The disc that had been given to him by the Piglins became one of the many  _ little things _ that helped to get people through the darkness. More often than not it was a song that could be heard playing from the jukebox in the community centre in the evenings when people came together to relax and talk. The children especially appeared to enjoy dancing to it and their happiness was utterly infectious. The smiles on their faces - carefree and wide - seemed to make everything a little brighter.

Eret never stayed particularly long at those events - Skeppy and Bad always seemed to be there talking with the other villagers and looking after Lucy, and Tommy and Tubbo would often appear for a short while before causing too much chaos and retreating instead to a tree they’d climb and while the hours away in. He almost felt a little sorry for the two of them - not quite adults, but not quite children. They were at an odd stage in life and had seen and fought far more than they should have done, not quite fitting in with any of the groups of people there. He kept an eye on them, but they were okay: they had each other, and they had Wilbur. 

A lot of people didn’t have the luxury of a brother to turn to, though. It wasn’t just children that had lost family members and in the evenings when people weren’t in the community centre mingling and celebrating, people came together to talk. Fighting had taken a toll on a number of people, the survivors' guilt weighing heavily on a lot of shoulders, and Bad knew first hand the damage that it could do to people. When he’d refused to process Dream’s death months ago he’d put himself in danger and been killed in the End - he saw every morning how Sapnap’s absence haunted Skeppy and how blame could consume him on his bad days - so creating a space for people to come together and talk about how they felt seemed logical. It reminded everyone that they weren’t alone, that people were there to listen and that sharing their emotions and processing what had happened was normal. 

With time people began to recover. The happiness people felt was stronger, it lasted longer, and it spread through the community quickly. 

They had lived, and they were determined to make the future as wonderful as possible.

By the time that George and Dream returned from their adventure the world that surrounded the village was changing. Daffodils had sprouted, bluebells littered the floor of the forest, with a half dozen other kinds of flower started to grow. Bees became a common sight as greenery and life began to return to the trees - some even sprouting beautiful purple flowers. There were strange kinds of cows appearing in the forest itself - their skin yellow and their backs covered in flowers. They often appeared with a friendly swarm of bees behind them, though they shied away from the people of the village. 

George and Dream were both smiling as they returned, hand in hand and closer than before. They didn’t talk about what happened between them while they’d been gone and so their friends didn’t push them to tell their story - if they chose to themselves, they would, and if they kept the tale close to their hearts then they would simply be glad to see that they’d found trust in each other once more. They didn’t need to tell their friends that they had decided to pursue a relationship, it was obvious in the way that they acted. They were inseparable, displays of affection were given often and unprompted, and they were happy. Their home was often the last illuminated in the village, with laughter filling the walls of their house until the early hours of the morning. 

With their adventure now drawn to a close and their treasure found, Eret took the baton from Dream and he and George planned the final leg of the journey. They took one of the boats that had been docked at a small pier erected on the beach and sailed along the coast a short way. The ocean monument that had been collapsed during the fight had been rebuilt a little further out into the ocean, bigger than before, and the population of Guardians that inhabited it seemed to have grown.

When their powers had disappeared so had the pain that came when touching water. It had been a blessing - George knew damn well that if water had still hurt him that his adventure with Dream would have been tortuous - and it meant now as they approached the new monument that both men were able to climb out of the boat and into the water without injuring themselves. Once in the cold of the ocean, George removed the Heart of the Sea from his bag in the boat and slowly kicked through the waves towards the monument with the treasure in hand. It had been an easy promise to make, and while he’d known when he’d come to the agreement with the Guardians that it would be difficult to find he’d known just as well that it was necessary. Having heard the story from Tommy and Tubbo of how they’d helped to defeat the Ender Dragon time and time again, he knew he’d made the right choice. Besides, it had given him the opportunity to go on an adventure with Dream - something that would always be worth it.

No longer able to communicate with the Guardians or spend an extended amount of time below the water, the exchange was quick and simple. George swam down as deep as he dared, letting go of the Heart of the Sea where the Guardians could see it before he returned to the surface and watched as they used their fins to push the treasure down into their monument. More than anything, providing the Heart of the Sea was a symbolic gesture of peace. Without it, the Humans would be unable to construct a conduit that could harm the Guardians. Now that they possessed it they could feel safe in their underwater home and expand without worry of being attacked. 

It wasn’t just the world above ground or in the Nether that seemed to be changing. George could see that even in the water, life had evolved. In amongst the darkness of everything, squids appeared to glow and illuminate the depths below: it was beautiful. He was almost mesmerised enough to stop kicking upwards and just admire them - but eventually his head poked through the surface and he shook the excess water from his hair, taking in deep breaths and smiling to his brother. The job was done.

With their debts nearly repaid and their alliances solidified, they truly could begin to think about their own futures.

# # #

After everything that the group of seven had done for the village, it only made sense that the wedding between Skeppy and Bad became such a huge occasion. Their engagement had been the first real celebration that people had since the war had ended, and their wedding was an excuse to go one bigger.

Tommy and Tubbo had been collecting ingredients for fireworks for the previous week, bunting had been made out of leftover scraps of fabric and hung in the branches of trees in a clearing in the forest. Logs had been dragged into the clearing for people to sit on - though given the number of people wanting to take part in the celebrations it was clear that there’d be people standing or sitting on the grassy ground. The trees themselves were filled with life - green leaves blowing gently in the breeze that came in from the ocean and the sun shining down between the gaps. It didn’t take much effort for the area to look magical with so much natural beauty already there, but it didn’t stop people from doing what they could to make things all the more memorable. 

A dainty little dress had been made for Lucy - a sash of flowers tied around her waist and a crown of cornflowers and red tulips placed on her head. She’d spent the morning with the other children in the village and been readied with the help of George and Wilbur. The others had spent time with Skeppy and Bad - who’d both been getting ready for their day separately. Bad was in Dream and George’s home with Dream and Tubbo by his side, and Skeppy in their home with Eret and Tommy. While there wasn’t much to spare in the way of suits, both men had made an effort to dress smarter than usual. They both wore blouses with flower corsages to match with Lucy’s crown - Bad wearing tulips on his chest and Skeppy with cornflowers - and both had been displaying wide smiles since they’d awoken. There were no nerves between them, no worries that the day might not go to plan, just happiness that it had finally arrived. Both groups spent their time together laughing as excitement bubbled, and a little after midday they made their way out into the forest.

Eret had gone on ahead - he would be the one officiating for the ceremony - and the others followed after. For a while they remained separate, upholding the tradition of not seeing each other until the moment of the wedding itself, but that didn’t last long. Skeppy had been the one to break it in the end, a grin on his face as he stopped in his tracks and called out.

“Can I walk with you, Bad?” He asked. He didn’t look behind him to see the other man - wanting to make sure that he too was content with breaking tradition. He kept looking forwards until he felt a hand slipping into his own, linking their fingers together and squeezing gently. 

“That would be nice.” Bad replied softly, Skeppy turned his head to the side and looked at him with his breath in his throat. He never felt as though he could ever truly be speechless - he could  _ always  _ think of something to say - but knowing that the reason he’d gotten dressed up today was him,  _ knowing  _ that the smile on his face was because they were promising to spend the rest of their lives with each other, he found himself letting out a breathless laugh and bringing his free hand behind his head. 

“You still want to marry me?” Skeppy asked sheepishly, watching as Bad’s face contorted with mock offense.

“Of  _ course  _ I want to marry you, you  _ muffin _ !” He exclaimed, a smile returning to his face as Skeppy leaned closer to him.

“I think kissing the bride comes  _ after  _ you’ve said your vows.” Dream called, the two turning their heads to look over their shoulders to see Dream, Tommy and Tubbo standing behind them. “Come on, you don’t want to be late for your own wedding do you?”

As the three began to walk again - stepping around Bad and Skeppy - the pair exchanged one last look before continuing on their way.

“You know you’re the bride, right Bad?”

“Skeppy!” He gasped, the other man laughing and squeezing his hand tightly. They were going to get married, and everything was utterly  _ perfect _ .

Arriving in the clearing of the forest they saw the villagers milling around together, talking, laughing, and smiling. It was easy to forget that just months ago they’d all been facing the idea that their lives were about to come to an end. Among the crowd they could see their friends, and holding onto George’s hand they could see Lucy. Both men stood a few paces away, waiting for her to notice them, and when she did she smiled excitedly and ran towards them with her arms in the air. 

“Daddies!” She said happily, jumping up from the bluebells and landing in Skeppy’s arms. With their arrival now adequately marked people took to their seats and Eret stood before them all. Bad gave Lucy a quick peck on the cheek, Skeppy gave her a tight squeeze, and they lowered her to the ground once more.

“Can you lead the way? You’ve got to take us to Uncle Eret and then you can sit with George again, okay?” Bad told her. Lucy nodded quickly, her hands moving to push the flower crown back up her head as it slipped over her eyes. After brushing a few strands of hair away from her face she smiled, looking at the people sitting on both sides of them and to the familiar group before her. They’d all become her family in some way, and she approached them without hesitation. Bad and Skeppy walked hand in hand several paces behind, watching as Eret kneeled down to be at a similar height to Lucy as he spoke.

“Do we have your permission to let your dads get married?” He asked her, Lucy nodding quickly again and having to push the crown further back on her head. She held it in place this time rather than letting it slip.

“Yes.” She said happily. “They love me lots and they love each other lots and I want them to be happy.”

“ _ Brilliant _ .” Eret smiled, holding one hand up in front of her. Lucy took a hand from her head and hit Eret’s palm, high-fiving him and giggling before he gestured his head towards George and she went to take a seat with her uncles. She fidgeted a little as the crowd watched the two exchange their vows, small rings of copper given to each other before their marriage was completed. Bad had been the first to cry, with Skeppy following not too long after, and as blossom and flower petals were thrown over their heads like confetti the two embraced and kissed. It wasn’t hot or heavy, it wasn’t deep or desperate, just slow and sweet. They weren’t facing death anymore, nothing was on the horizon waiting to harm them, they had all the time in the world to enjoy together and they didn’t want to rush. 

Lucy’s voice tore them apart, Bad picking her up in one arm and holding her close to his chest as Skeppy adjusted the crown on her head. They’d fallen so effortlessly into parenthood that everything they did seemed natural, it seemed easy, and they couldn’t wait to see what the future held.

Celebrations of their union continued late into the night. After the ceremony they’d returned to the village to feast in the community centre - the sounds of music and laughter filled the air - before the real party began. Once their meal was finished they returned to the beach, watching the sun setting in the west towards St. Nick’s Hill and listening to the waves of the ocean crashing against the sand. Skeppy and Bad had toed off their boots to take their first dance barefoot in the sand, beach illuminated by the distant glow of the beacon, and it seemed that the rest of the world wanted to join in with their activities. Squids swam close to the surface of the water, bioluminescence making the ocean glow with life, and fireflies buzzed in the air around them - it all gave the evening a magical feeling. 

Everything felt right, and as Skeppy and Bad lay in the sand together to watch the fireworks exploding overhead - Lucy and Dream paddling in the ocean together - they grinned. 

“I love you.” Bad said quietly, looking up at Skeppy from where he’d rested his head on the younger man’s chest.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Skeppy smirked, laughing a little and watching as Bad’s head bounced up and down as his breath left him. “Thank you for marrying me.”

“You’re welcome.” Bad said. Another firework exploded, the sky above lighting up purple, and Bad smiled. He pushed himself up, resting one hand in the sand as he looked down at Skeppy with a grin on his face. They were married now - there really was only one way to end the night. 

George and Dream babysat Lucy for them, carrying the sleeping girl back to their home and tucking her into a makeshift bed on the sofa rather than disturbing their fun: they didn’t exactly want to come between them on their wedding night of all nights, after all.

# # #

Spring gradually turned into summer, lives returned to normal, though there was no talk of another game of Manhunt come autumn. While it hadn’t been tested, it was assumed that death was still a permanent feature of their world and no one wished to be the guinea pig to find out whether or not that was the truth. Adventuring, for now, was something done much closer to home. Eret and George had located a cave system not too far from their new village - and the new life in the Nether, on the surface and in the oceans seemed to have continued down below. There was plant life - grass, leaves, tall stems with berries that emanated a soft glow and purple flowers that expelled beautiful spores - and an underground river filled with axolotls that flowed through the lush expanse led to a vast open cave. The river became a waterfall that plummeted down several hundred feet - a drop that the pair navigated using the elytra taken from the End what felt like a lifetime ago. Smaller tunnels led away from the main cavern, hidden away by stalagmites that covered the ground. 

They’d been slowly exploring what the new underground world had to offer when they’d found something completely new. The basalt walls of the cave had narrowed, taken them lower underground into what must have been an ancient magma chamber. Something truly mystical had been left behind.

George lit a torch to illuminate the small chamber they found themselves in, the hot flame flickering orange and red and revealing the beauty of their surroundings. It was enough for George to pull the goggles on his head over his eyes, wanting to see the true colours of the crystals that encased them.

“Purple…” He said quietly, Eret looking at him with a soft smile on his face as he pushed hair from his eyes.

“Amethysts.” He replied. George turned his head to look at his brother, raising an eyebrow.

“How’d you think of that name?”

“It fits, don’t you think?”

There was a moment of quiet between them, George taking a step closer to the walls and reaching out with one hand to delicately brush against the sharp edge of one of the gems. It  _ did  _ seem to fit quite well, but Eret was still his brother.

“We’ll workshop it a bit.” He said. He looked over his shoulder to see Eret giving him a look - a look that indicated an unspoken sentence was on the tip of his tongue - and he let his shoulders fall. “What?”

“You were looking for something special, right?” He asked. “A gem only two people know about seems a little more special than a diamond or an emerald.”

George hummed, looking back to the crystal. He knew what his brother was hinting at, and he was right, but he still didn’t want to admit that.

“I suppose you have a point.”

# # # 

“I don’t see why we need to go to the top of the hill to see the sunset.” Dream said, his hands in the pockets of his shorts as the last warmth of the summer sun shone down upon his body. He and George were heading side by side toward St. Nick’s Hill, and with the sun still firmly above the horizon they knew they had plenty of time to make it to the top before night fell. 

“Because, now shut up and follow me.” George replied. There was a smile on his face and the  _ shut up  _ was meant as affectionately as possible. He was a few paces ahead, walking carefully through the field of wheat between the village and the bottom of the grassy slope. There were less flowers and trees here and as such the land was easier to cultivate, but it meant that it was a popular spot for those looking for somewhere more open to play. Children often had to be guided away from the farm to keep from trampling any crops (though they’d all learned rather quickly). The latest trick seemed to have been started by Tubbo and Tommy and copied by many of the older children: they’d dress up like the scarecrows that stood in the field and when farmers came near, would move and scare them. It was harmless enough fun, though they’d had a fair few hoes come closer to their faces than they would have liked as the farmers jumped out of their boots.

That afternoon the sounds of laughter could be heard from the fields, though it didn’t seem like anyone was getting into trouble. As they walked away from the village, Eret and Wilbur were walking back towards it. The two had been out mapping the local area over the last few days, and Wilbur had a number of scrolled up maps tucked beneath his arm as they spoke. They offered the pair a wave, Eret giving George a wink and a knowing smile as he passed by.

The walk up the hill took longer than usual, the heat of the day was lingering and it made hiking a little less bearable than normal. To Dream, that was all it was, but George had another reason that climbing the hill seemed to be so exhausting. 

He turned around a little way up, looking back over the village and through the flower forest down to the beach. On the shore below he could see their friends spending an afternoon relaxing - Bad and Skeppy were on the beach with Lucy, standing on the water’s edge. It was hard to see from the distance they were at, but George had remembered them talking the night before about teaching her how to skip stones across the ocean. George the dog was there too, bounding around and jumping in the waves to amuse himself. They seemed happy together, and George let himself smile.

“I thought you wanted me to follow you.” Dream called, pulling George’s attention back to him as he looked around to the man standing higher above him. “How can I follow you if you’re so  _ slow _ ?”

“I’m not slow, you just have stupidly long legs.” George said, Dream scoffing.

“Oh, come  _ on _ now. You’re so slow and you  _ know it _ .” He said, though he held out his hand for George to take regardless. The older man closed the gap between them, slipping his hand into his and smiling as Dream’s fingers closed around it. It felt right, because of  _ course  _ it felt right. Things had been fixed between them and since returning from their own adventure they’d been closer than ever. Things would never be the same as they had been before the war, but they were different in a good way. They’d both come so far and changed so much, that they were almost a better match than they had been before everything had started. From where they stood today, a year ago they seemed like school boys with crushes, they knew now what they felt for each other was so much deeper than anything they’d known before. It was love, that much was true, but they’d never expected love to feel like this. 

Dream helped George to the top of the hill, making it to the summit as the sun began to tickle the horizon and the sky started to turn faintly yellow. George sat himself on the grass and Dream followed suit, crossing his legs and resting his head on top of his shoulder. He leaned a free hand down onto the ground, fingers playing with the blades of grass below as if that brought him a little bit closer to Sapnap. Over the course of the last few months they’d learned to live without him by their side, but there were still moments of silence that should have been filled with his laughter. They knew that he would have been a fantastic father to Lucy had he survived, that he would have enjoyed adventuring with Dream and George when they’d gone to retrieve the Heart of the Sea. Perhaps he would have taught Tommy and Tubbo a few more tricks, maybe the three of them would have been laughing together now as they caused all sorts of mischief together.

They wouldn’t forget their friend - they couldn’t let him die a second time - but it did them no good to focus on what could have been. They had each other, something that they were incredibly lucky to have given how the fight had gone, and they still had their friends surrounding them. They had a future to look forward to, and that was where their focus had to lie.

“Hey, Dream?”

“Yes George?”

George shifted a little where he sat - not much, but enough for Dream to move his head from his shoulder and turn to look at him. 

“Everything alright?” He asked kindly, concern slowly making its way onto his features as he observed George. He didn’t often get like this, and his face was one that was deep in thought. “What’s on your mind?”

“Everything’s fine.” George said, shaking his head a little to pull himself from his mind as he offered Dream a smile. “I wanted to ask you something, I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

“The right moment?” Dream asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s so special that you have to have the right moment to ask?” As he spoke, a knowing smile made its way onto his face. There were only a few things he could think of that would warrant the walk to the top of a hill named after their friend, why George’s brother had smiled the way he did, and why George needed the moment to be perfect. He wouldn’t rush him, and wouldn’t jump to conclusions, but his heart grew with warmth in his chest as he appreciated the quiet of the evening. Things would happen when they were meant to happen.

George had pulled his goggles over his eyes as the sun sank lower into the horizon. He watched along with Dream as the sky turned from yellow and blue to an entire spectrum of oranges, reds, and pinks. Behind them the moon began to rise - the sky there darker, purple and blue as stars began to flicker into view and constellations made an appearance. 

This was it, the right moment.

“Dream?”

“Yes, George.” He said softly, turning his head to look back towards the man beside him.

“I love you.”

“I know.” He replied. “I love you, too.”

“Do you think that,  _ maybe _ , you’d like to-”   
  


“Yes.” He grinned, the lazy smile that had been on his face widening.

“Can I finish the question?” George asked, one hand in his pocket and his eyes locked on Dream.

“ _ Yes _ .”

George waited a beat and took in a breath, before smiling and speaking.

“Will you marry me?” 

As the words left his lips, his hand left his pocket and he produced a ring. The band was gold, handmade with tiny sheets of the precious metal moulded into intricate knotwork. To top it all off, a purple gemstone had been smoothed down carefully and stood out just a little from the ring’s surface. Dream had already said yes - he knew that George had his answer - and he spent a moment staring at the unfamiliar jewel with amazement.

“Amethyst.” George said, as if that would explain anything. “Eret and I found a cave full, it seems a little more special than diamond.” He continued, stealing the words from his brother’s mouth. But Eret wasn’t here to take the credit, so for now he could pretend that every detail of this romantic gesture had come from his own mind. 

“ _ Yes,  _ George.” Dream eventually breathed, feeling his shoulders sagging as tension left his body. He’d been holding air in his lungs for longer than he realised and as he began to breathe again he laughed, George taking his hand and pushing the ring onto his finger. 

Dream wasn’t sure  _ when  _ George had started crying, although it had to have been sometime after he’d explained what the gem was as his voice had seemed level and even then. It didn’t matter because  _ he  _ was crying too, and their faces both held wide, infectious smiles. They’d lived, they’d survived through hell and had each other by their side. Now, they were deciding to make it so that whatever the future threw at them, they would  _ always  _ have each other by their side. No matter what happened, they would come home to the other loving them, supporting them, and they would get through it all together.

As the sun disappeared below the horizon completely, George’s lips found Dream’s and moved against them slowly. His hands moved to hold him - one on his waist and one on his shoulder - and they moved ever so slightly closer together. Dream smiled into the kiss, closing his eyes and placing his hands on the ground either side of George’s waist to keep him right where he wanted him. 

They might have the rest of their lives together but they were determined to start living their future there and then. They just didn’t know what their future would hold - if they did, they might have waited a little longer. But for now things were calm, they were safe and they were happy: the future still appeared bright, and the story of what happened tomorrow could wait for tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, that’s the end. Exactly three months to the day that chapter one of The Beginning? was posted, we have chapter fifteen of This is the End.
> 
> Over 195,000 words, 36 chapters. If I knew one gallbladder removal surgery and a global pandemic was all that stood between me and a story that’s longer than The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien I would’ve done it sooner! 
> 
> In all seriousness, thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone that’s read along from the beginning. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to those that have joined in half way through, despite needing to read 50,000, 100,000, or even 150,000 words to catch up. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to those that have just binge read the entire series. Thank you for sticking with this story for so long, for letting it and me have a place in your hearts and minds. Your comments and your kudos over the last few months have been utterly insane and I cannot put into words just how much it means to me. I’m one of those unlucky people that lives alone and because of the pandemic I haven’t really seen people outside of my surgery so having a community that’s been so engaged in something that I’ve created has genuinely made the world of difference to my life. I turn 22 in a few days and I’ll be going into my next year of life with an epic novel under my belt, something I never thought I’d be able to say.
> 
> I’m sure you can tell from the last few words that while this story and trilogy of fics is over, this AU is by no means at an end. I have three more multi-chapter fics I’d like to write (one set before this fic focusing on the God of the End, Nether, and Overworld, one explaining the adventure that George and Dream went on to find the Heart of the Sea, and possibly a little something set afterwards...) so I hope you’re all excited to learn more about this Universe I’ve created!
> 
> Okay now the heartfelt stuff is done, let me plug a few things!
> 
> Twitter  
> Spotify  
> A link to my discord server is available on request!
> 
> If you haven’t already, please leave a kudos or a comment, it really does mean the world to me! It’s free, and you can always delete your comment later ;D
> 
> Oh, and I think my next project is going to be an MCC but IRL AU - nothing quite as epic as this one, I do intend for that to be a stand-alone fic rather than another trilogy, but this only became what it is today because of a pun I made in chapter three of The Beginning? so I can’t rule anything out!
> 
> (And the Baby Fic isn’t forgotten, I have plans for it, I’m just having so much fun writing these adventure stories that it’s taken a back foot as I’m not feeling Modern AUs quite as much at the moment!)
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, I hope to see you all again in a comment section, on Twitter, or Discord.
> 
> Love, Moonie.


End file.
